Happenstance
by Bookjunk
Summary: Castiel is given the choice to either remain an angel or to become human and his indecision is driving Dean crazy. Takes place 2 years after season six finale. Season six spoilers.
1. He loves you deep inside

**Chapter 1: He loves you deep inside**

Castiel's POV

'If I could be anything…' Castiel began, but Dean rudely cut him off.

'Oh, come on. We're not going to start that again, are we?' Dean snapped. Bobby and Sam seemed annoyed by his interruption and for once Castiel didn't back down either. The angel stared straight at Dean, but the hunter stared back, unfazed. It had been almost five years since _that_ conversation and Castiel still loved Dean. Castiel would gladly bed him right now, if that was allowed and if Dean had seemed even remotely interested. It wasn't. Dean wasn't. Over the past few weeks Dean had been more irritated by Castiel's presence than usual. It was as if Dean couldn't wait to be rid of him.

'I didn't ask you anything, I was simply making a statement,' Castiel said and his cold politeness seemed to irk Dean. Anger radiated from him in disturbing waves. Castiel was sure that had Sam and Bobby not been here Dean would have attacked him. That might even be preferable to this distance that had been between them lately. Since Castiel had been given the choice to remain an angel or become human, Dean had visibly been growing angrier and angrier.

'Well, excuse _me_. I thought you were answering a question I asked you over four years ago, which, by the way, you already answered,' Dean commented. It seemed strange that Dean would remember that night. For him it had been a night like any other night, while for Castiel it had been the end of them. Dean and Cas: never happened. Except it did happen. Perhaps it wasn't so strange after all, since Castiel remembered every conversation he ever had with Dean, whether they had happened or not.

'Dean, could you shut up for a moment? Some of us actually want to hear what Cas has to say,' Sam said. Bless him. Dean's brother had been much more forgiving than Dean. Even of unforgivable offenses. Thinking about that moment when he had declared himself God, Castiel cringed and Dean picked up on it immediately.

'We all know what Cas would be if he could be anything: God. Yeah, remember that? Bow down before me and profess your love? That was hilarious,' Dean continued. Perhaps Dean's anger was normal. It was earned, unlike Castiel's unearned unhappiness. He felt he had appropriated grief and twisted it until it was unrecognisable. And it was all about Dean. Everything was Dean. Dean was everything.

Now there were no more impending apocalypses, Lucifer was back in his cage and no one was trying to release him. They still killed the occasional demon or monster of the week, but that was about it. The days when the Winchesters needed him were over. After he had shed his megalomania and the order in heaven had been restored, everything had reverted back to the way it was supposed to be. Supposed to be.

'Frankly, I'm surprised they're giving you a choice. Isn't declaring yourself God frowned upon?' Dean asked. Long since that had happened the others had arrived at a place where they could laugh about it. However, when Sam and Bobby laughed about it, Dean kind of smirked his way through. The angel could tell that Dean had neither forgotten nor forgiven him. Perhaps Dean was never going to get to that healthy stage where you put that sort of stuff behind you. And why should he? I don't deserve to be forgiven, Castiel thought.

'I did that for the greater good,' Castiel mumbled, embarrassed. The others might be able to, but he knew that Dean could not forget what he had said. Neither could Castiel. _Or I will destroy you. _And he had meant it too. For some reason Dean had been convinced that he could talk Castiel down. That they had a special connection and that Castiel would listen to him. _Please_, Dean had said. _Don't make me lose you too, _he had said_._ It would haunt Castiel for the rest of his days that this had not deterred him. Nothing inside had softened. It was ironical to the extreme that when Dean had uttered those words Castiel had felt absolutely nothing, while he would give anything to hear those words now.

'Funny, here I thought you were just power hungry,' Dean sneered. Bobby coughed awkwardly and Sam glared at Dean. It wasn't entirely fair of Dean; Castiel knew that, because a lot of his behaviour had been caused by the souls inside of him. Then again, Castiel had been in there somewhere and he had done very little to stop himself. In fact, he didn't stop of his own accord; he needed to be stopped.

'What will you do?' Castiel asked, staring at his tie, 'Let's stop talking about me. What will you all do with your lives now?'

The question seemed to surprise Dean. Sam, on the other hand, was ready to jump right in. After a quick glance at Dean, which Castiel noticed, because Sam wasn't exactly subtle, Sam told them he would like to go back to law school.

'Since everything seems quiet on the Western front,' Sam said, before ominously adding, 'For now.' Castiel saw Dean roll his eyes at the dramatic statement. Yet, why should Sam refrain from saying what they all thought; that this might not last. Every time you think you're out you always get pulled right back in.

'To Stanford?' Bobby asked. He sounded genuinely interested too; an emotion that Castiel was having trouble summoning. Not that he didn't care, he cared about Sam. It just so happened that he cared more about what Dean was going to do.

'Yes, I might. I'd like to be state's attorney someday maybe. Then when I graduate it would be like still fighting evil, only using a different method,' Sam explained and he sounded kind of proud and eager. Even in the midst of his anxiety about Dean, Castiel was glad that Sam would get to fulfil his dream.

'And you, Bobby?' Sam asked.

'Well, I'm too old for school,' the older hunter joked and Dean interjected that Bobby was too cool for school. This earned him another withering look from Sam, while Castiel smiled faintly.

'I'll do what I used to do, I guess. Work in the salvage yard and kill the odd demon,' Bobby answered. That sounded very pleasant to Castiel. A simple kind of life, but with a bit of excitement thrown in. Dean didn't seem to be paying any attention to their answers. In some sort of daze, the hunter was shuffling his feet. Suddenly he appeared to wake up when Castiel turned to him.

'What will you do?' Castiel asked Dean and he caught Sam winking at Bobby. Was it so obvious that Dean's answer had been the one he was waiting for? Whether Castiel would remain an angel or become human hinged on Dean's answer. Not that they would be together, but if Dean expressed even a modicum of interest in Castiel's presence in his life then Castiel would gladly become human. Even if it was only to see him twice a year during Sam or Dean's birthday. As a friend. As a vague acquaintance; someone from the past whom you have no use for anymore. Castiel would stay for a nod across a crowded room, a 'hi Cas,' a shoulder pat.

'I don't know. I could be like a cop or something,' Dean suggested. Bobby eyed Dean curiously, as if he was checking to see whether Dean would make a good cop. Bobby exchanged a glance with Sam.

'You do make a convincing FBI agent,' Sam offered, but he sounded hesitant. There could be a number of reasons for that, Castiel thought. Dean wasn't good with authority; mostly he had issues with having to obey orders. Dean himself was afraid that maybe he was not intelligent enough. Also, Castiel was unsure whether the FBI was still after Dean or whether they were convinced he was dead. Either way, that might prove to be an obstacle in joining them.

'If you choose to become human, you should be an FBI agent too. We could be partners!' Dean enthused. It was difficult to decipher what Dean meant, but Castiel was 99 percent sure that Dean was being sarcastic. Or was this confirmation, encouragement, proof that Dean did want him around? While he was agonising, Sam and Bobby were giggling about something Dean had said.

'Partners?' Bobby repeated, in between snickering, which caused Sam to start laughing again. The idea might be ridiculous, but there was no need for these hysterics, Castiel thought. This was just plain offensive. Dean didn't look happy about their mockery either; he looked nauseous.

'What? Cas pretended to be an FBI agent before. That... didn't go so well, but next time you'll do better,' Dean said and he patted Castiel' arm. Physical contact, actual physical contact: the angel tried very hard not to revel in it. Sam stopped laughing long enough to ask when Castiel had been FBI.

'You weren't there. It was just Cas and me,' Dean explained. Vividly, Castiel remembered that. Sam and Dean had been separated temporarily and Castiel was partnered up with Dean. To say this had been the best time of Castiel's life was an understatement. Even with the brothel nightmare included.

'Isn't it always just Cas and you?' Sam asked and Dean's brother exchanged another one of those meaningful glances with Bobby.

'What?'

'I think what Sam means is, how come you remember a question you asked Castiel four years ago and not a memorable one at that?' Bobby queried.

'That happened to also be the night I got a death threat,' Dean said casually and a horrible feeling came over Castiel. He looked at Sam and Bobby, but this was the first they had heard of this too.

'What?' Castiel asked, but his voice was suddenly hoarse. Dean had been in danger and he hadn't even known it.

'Well, I didn't know it at the time. It was only when Balthazar tried to unsink the Titanic about two years later and you described one of the Fates as looking like a librarian that I put the pieces together,' Dean explained and Castiel could feel guilt filling the pit in his stomach. Could it be that even after he had erased it, that Atropos still had been angry enough to threaten Dean?

'Atropos threatened you in person,' Sam reiterated. The disbelief was apparent in his face. Dean shuffled his feet again.

'You were there too, so technically she threatened us and it was even before we botched the apocalypse, so she really must have had it in for us,' Dean said and he almost sounded proud to have invoked the scorn of such a powerful force.

'What did she say exactly?' Castiel finally asked.

'Someday,' Dean revealed, but when he saw their reactions he plainly thought that this didn't sound particularly threatening, so he added, 'but she whispered it real creepily.'

_Someday._ Castiel instantly realised that it had not been a threat, but it might a promise. And what a coincidence that he discovered this when he had to decide whether he would become human. Coincidence or fate? Atropos had said that an angel and a human weren't supposed to fall in love and be together: 'angel' being the operative word in that sentence. If they could someday be together when Castiel was human, could this be someday? Or was Atropos screwing with him?

He hadn't listened to her advice; he hadn't gotten over Dean, though his fixation had shifted from time to time. Dean's collarbones were beyond wonderful, but so was Dean's smell. There were weeks when the way Dean smelled could drive Castiel crazy. There was the fresh and tangy scent of pine needles and resin. It was very woody and Castiel suspected it came from Dean's aftershave, though he wouldn't be surprised if Dean just occasionally rubbed that little pine tree shaped air freshener from the Impala across his face. Then there were the customary hunter smells of gun powder and rock salt, but they had faded over the past few weeks. Overlaying those was the very subdued flowery fragrance of Dean's fabric softener. And then underneath it all was the spicy smell of Dean's sweat, which, no matter how subtle or strong it was, Castiel always liked.

Some weeks Castiel tried to avoid eye contact with Dean, otherwise he would find himself laying awake at night, wondering whether Dean's eyes were green or hazel. They could skip over him, but they rarely did. Those amazing eyes usually appeared to peer straight into Castiel's heart.

Other weeks it had been Dean's forearms. Whenever Dean rolled up his sleeves, Castiel would practically swoon. And when Dean touched his collarbones he could still feel a pull in his stomach and an almost overwhelming urge to smother those two stupid, insignificant bones with kisses.

Everything that was Dean's had the power to turn him on in mere seconds. Sock, knife, bacon cheeseburger, car keys. Castiel could even remember a particularly embarrassing time when Dean had clipped his toe nails and he'd caught himself thinking that he might collect some of them later. No, he had scolded himself; that was stalker type behaviour. That was unhinged and unsettling. The most upsetting perhaps, lately, was Dean's voice. Able to transform within a heartbeat and vulnerable to almost imperceptible changes that only Castiel could pick up on. Depending on the circumstances, Dean's voice was everything that Dean was; dangerous, kind, tough, soft, like gravel, like honey.

But Dean's voice never said the words Castiel wanted to hear. _I love you._ Once upon a time, in a moment forever encapsulated only in Castiel's mind, Dean had said that he would continue to love him. What followed had proven him wrong. Dean had chosen to live with Lisa and Ben. Perhaps that was ultimately the way it was supposed to be. After everything he had done Castiel knew better than to hope that Dean would say, _Please, don't make me lose you._ That was his own fault. The one time Dean had been honest about his feelings, pleading even, Castiel hadn't responded.

The way he had treated Dean before that also precluded, _Stay here with me_. Dean's fate had been clear, but Dean had wavered. It was not that Castiel didn't believe; he had always had faith in Dean. The fact was that he had needed to be harsh and unforgiving and it was necessary that he pretended to be disappointed in Dean. There was even that time when he had physically hurt Dean, all the while, his breath hitching in his throat, thinking about that other fight they didn't have. Thinking about Dean's hands dragging him across the room and slamming him into the wall and finally Dean's tongue hot in his mouth. So, now he would just settle for, _Stay_.

(***)

Story titles and chapter titles are song titles from Rachael Yamagata.

This story is a sequel to Teeth sinking into heart, but I think it can also be read as a standalone fic. The references are light, but of course you can always read Teeth sinking into heart too.


	2. Known for years

**Chapter 2: Known for years**

Dean's POV

Dean watched as Castiel excused himself to go upstairs. The angel looked distressed and Dean couldn't care less. They had been at Bobby's place doing the same song and dance for weeks now and Dean was sick and tired of it. Yeah, yeah, it was a big decision, whether to be an angel or a human, but Cas' indecision was driving him crazy. Also, Dean had hinted and suggested and implied that he would like it if Cas chose to become human. More than like, really.

'Sam, I need to ask you something,' he said. It was more of a confidential whisper and Bobby understood immediately. Their friend groaned as he got up from his chair.

'You don't want me in the room for this conversation, right? Yeah, I didn't think so. Continue,' Bobby offered graciously and he strolled out of the kitchen into the living room. Banished from his own kitchen; Dean felt bad about that. Once Castiel had his shit figured out, the three of them would have to find their own place to live. Or the two of them, but Dean didn't want to think about that possibility.

_If I could be anything..._ Castiel was treating this like it was fun. This wasn't a game. It wasn't wish or make-believe or gosh, if I could be anything I'd like to be a millionaire. A lot was riding on this choice that Cas had to make and sometimes Dean just wanted to shake the angel and yell at him. _Stay here. Stay with me._

'I need you to ask Cas to stay,' Dean said softly. Sam looked at him like he was insane. Like certifiably insane. In the other room the television came on and Bobby turned up the sound. Somehow Dean thought the sound was still a tad too quiet. Unless, of course, Bobby wanted to overhear their conversation.

'I don't think it will do much good if _I_ ask him,' Sam stated and there was a knowing smirk on his face. It was just like Sam to enjoy this whole discussion. Sam and, surprisingly, Bobby had been encouraging Cas to think long and hard before he made a decision. So, they had gone over and over and over it. Like schoolgirls with a crush they had made pro and con lists. Dean had been thrilled that he was listed as a pro on the 'become human' list, but less thrilled that he was put together with Sam and Bobby. Ridiculously, Dean felt that he at least deserved to be a separate pro.

'What do you mean?'

'Let me ask you something. Was I there when you asked him what he could be if he could be anything?' Sam asked. Fuck, his brother was going to draw this out, wasn't he? Not that this surprised Dean in the slightest. It wasn't as if there was something at stake for Sam if Cas decided to remain an angel. He might even visit and they could all pall around and talk about the good old days.

'Yes.'

'And he said something that I didn't get, but you did and you explained it to me?' Sam added. That was exactly how it had been. That night had been seared into Dean's mind, because of Atropos. It wasn't everyday that you got threatened by a hot chick. He felt a pang as he thought of the worst threat he had ever received. At least Castiel had had the good grace to look embarrassed about it. He _should _be fucking embarrassed. It's not as if they hadn't been threatened before by everyone and their mother, but this had been Cas. Cas was supposed to... Dean didn't know what, but he certainly wasn't supposed to threaten him.

'Yes.'

'And you often talk to each other like there's no one else in the room, like you're performing a duet,' Sam continued. _So?_ Dean wanted to say. So, sometimes Cas acted as if Dean was the only person in the room, that was true, but Dean secretly rather liked that. Sam was simply jealous. Dean thought it was very nice of himself that he didn't add that it had been the best time of his life when Cas and him had really been alone, going after Raphael. See, he could be nice if he wanted to.

'Yes.'

'And you two understand each other and you've got a profound bond and everything,' Sam summed up and Dean hoped he was getting to the end of whatever it was he was trying to say. What was Sam driving at? Dean thought of when he had suggested that Cas become his FBI partner. What was that again about not playing make-believe? Yeah, that was never going to happen. What a truly pathetic attempt. Dean was pretty desperate, not knowing what to say to make Castiel stay. Yet, Bobby and Sam had giggled as if they had known something that Dean didn't know.

'Yes.'

'Well...' Sam stopped and looked at Dean as if he should be able to fill in the blanks. Not that he had said anything useful or anything Dean didn't already know. And there was clearly something that Sam knew, but that for some reason he was not telling.

'Well, what?' Dean asked. Please pitch in, he thought, because he had absolutely no idea. His brother scraped his chair across the floor and straightened himself. The freakishly large shadow loomed over Dean. Neither of them breathed, Dean could imagine even Bobby holding his breath, until Sam cleared his throat.

'I can't believe I'm going to have to tell you. No, you know what? If you haven't figured it out by now, I'm not going to tell you,' he finally said, defiantly. Dean didn't think he could take a lot more of his brother's cryptic comments.

'Tell me what?' he snapped. Sam heaved an overly dramatic sigh of deep frustration. Yeah, I get it, Dean wanted to say, but the point was that he _didn'_t get it.

'Ok. There's this poem called _Not Waving but Drowning_, do you know it?' Sam said. Upstairs Dean could hear Cas pacing. Quickly losing his patience, he rolled his eyes at Sam. Dean, the poetry buff: who did Sam think he was speaking to?

'It's about a guy who's...'

'...not waving, but drowning? Yeah, the title pretty much spoils the plot,' Dean interrupted him. The interruption appeared to annoy Sam, which was exactly what Dean had sought to accomplish. An angry Sam got to the point much faster than a calm Sam.

'Castiel may seem indecisive, but he's not,' Sam said.

'Could have fooled me,' Dean replied drily. Another pang shot through him unexpectedly. If Castiel had already made his choice and Sam didn't think asking him to stay would do any good, then it was pretty obvious what Cas had chosen.

'He's waiting for a cue,' Sam added and he was acting as if everything was crystal clear now. This made no sense. If Cas had decided, why would he be waiting for a cue?

'What sort of cue?'

'A cue from you.'

'Really, I thought it might be a clue from Blue. Just freaking tell me, Sam,' Dean urged. Between Cas and Sam it was a wonder he hadn't been committed to an insane asylum years before. Neither could ever say what the hell it was they meant. Suddenly Bobby's voice cut through from the living room. Its thundering boom drowned out the television and startled the two brothers.

'Dean, you idiot! He is waiting for you to ask him to stay.'

Over the years there had been moments. Moments when something seemed to be happening between Castiel and him, but Cas always warded them off. Now Dean wondered what would have happened if he hadn't. It was true that Dean had hoped they had a story, maybe even a fairy tale. Not wish, not make-believe, but an actual fairy tale. And damn it, the story wasn't finished. It didn't end with Cas going back up to heaven. At the end of this fairy tale came a happy ending. Sure, along the way gruesome and bloody things had happened, like in real fairy tales, but in the end the two lovers got to be together.

That word: lovers. Nothing inappropriate had ever happened between them, not a secret kiss, not a touch that was a little more than friendly. Still, there had been subtext. A whole lot of subtext. Dean had picked up on it and he had had fun with it, but had Cas known? That time when Dean had said he needed something and Cas had answered that he would give him anything he wished, was that Cas playing with the subtext or was it Cas being entirely truthful? And did it matter?

Cas had done and said things which were unmistakable, now Dean came to think of it. Whether it was sexual or not, and Dean highly doubted Cas knew anything about that, Cas' actions were mostly acts of love. So, Dean would ask him and know. Because Dean loved Cas and he sure as hell wasn't going to lose him because he was too afraid to say anything. Though he couldn't help but think of the only other time he had told Castiel what he felt. _Please, don't make me lose you too_. If that wasn't a fucking declaration of love than what was? Unfortunately, Cas had been a little busy declaring himself God and it hadn't gone over too well.

Clearly, Bobby and Sam knew, so without further ado Dean ran up the stairs. Do not ask him whether he is decent. Do not ask him whether he is decent. Cas is not coming out of the shower. He is not masturbating to the thought of you. He is not _dirty_. So, there is really no reason to ask whether he's decent. Do not, under any circumstances, ask him whether he is decent.

'Are you decent?' Damn. In a puzzled voice Cas called out that he thought he was. Dean opened the door and closed it behind him. Castiel was sitting on the bed, an expectant expression on his face. Perhaps happiness was just a word away. _Stay._

(***)

_Not Waving but Drowning_ is a poem by Stevie Smith.

And Dean is referring to a kid television show called _Blue's Clues_.


	3. Would you please

**Chapter 3: ****Would you please**

Castiel's POV

When Dean entered the room, Castiel noticed that the hunter was looking a little flustered. Perhaps it was because of the strange question. _Are you decent?_ Castiel thought he was. He tried to be good, though it was a lot less automatic than it had once been. Or did it mean... Ah, Dean had meant whether he was dressed. Thinking of being naked with only a door between Dean and him was a little too intoxicating, so Castiel tried to shut out that thought.

He observed Dean as the older Winchester stood with his back to him and fiddled with the curtains, shuffled his feet and cleared his throat a couple of times. The curve of his shoulder was clearly visible, even under his flannel shirt and it was sexy. Sometimes Castiel thought Dean did it on purpose. It was almost worse to have Dean be covered up from head to toe, because then his imagination always ran away with him as to what was hidden underneath those clothes. Though, he had to admit that a shirtless Dean wasn't really an improvement. Yes, nothing left to imagine, but a lot left to covet. It gave him twitchy fingers, just thinking about it.

'Please stay, Cas,' Dean said. The angel perked up immediately. Dean looked at him over his shoulder, apprehension in his gaze, and Castiel answered his gaze with frankness.

'Ok.'

'Just like that?' Dean asked, turning around, clearly perplexed. Your wish is my command, Castiel was dying to say, but that would not be wise. It was incredible to have Dean say that he wanted him to stay, but it simply meant that Dean liked having him around. Nothing more.

'Yes. If you want me to stay I'll stay. Could I live with you and Sam in the beginning?' Castiel asked. There was a whole new life that he would need to settle into and it was good to get started right away. Plus, if it meant that he would be around Dean almost constantly for a few weeks or months than that was even better. However, Dean looked puzzled by his question.

''In the beginning?' What do you mean?' Dean said. There was something sad about the hunter, which wasn't surprising to Castiel. After all, hunting demons was the only life Dean had ever known and to leave it behind now must be difficult.

'I have no money. I'll need to... get a job and make money and then I can live on my own,' he explained. That's how it worked, right? The thing with the money was a bit confusing. Little bits of green paper that were useless, but you could trade them for things that were useful. He needed to look into this matter more closely.

'You can stay with me,' Dean repeated and he stared at Castiel in a way that seemed to mean something. Dean didn't mention Sam; perhaps the brothers weren't going to live together? Or maybe Dean didn't think he needed to consult his brother. Castiel had noticed Dean often informed Sam of certain choices, affecting them both, only _after_ he had already made them.

'Yes, in the beginning, but I thought you might want to go back to Lisa and Ben eventually,' he suggested and his voice was very small. That was strange, because a voice was not tangible, so it didn't have a shape or size. Thus, it couldn't be small. Yet, Castiel felt that it was. It was a little, scared voice, which was even stranger. He was pretty sure voices had absolutely nothing to be scared of.

'I hadn't... no, that ship has sailed,' Dean said and he regarded Castiel with caution.

'Ah.'

'The truth is that I haven't really thought about what I'm going to do. I, Cas, I... I love... Lisa and Ben, but I can't go back to them. They don't want me back after the things I've done and I don't want to go back. I have done shit to you too. There have been times when I disappointed you and doubted you, but you still... You're still here.'

There was a vulnerability in Dean's eyes that had rarely been there before and it got to Castiel. Dean didn't allow himself to be vulnerable very often and Castiel thought it felt nice to be trusted. As much as he prided himself on understanding Dean like no one else did, Dean kept his emotions under such a tight lid that Castiel suspected that even Dean hardly knew what he was feeling half the time.

'Where else would I be?' he replied and, seeing the look on Dean's face, he added, 'No, I'm not being philosophical. I want to be here, with you.'

'I want you to be with me. We'll live together: the two of us,' Dean said and this time there was no mistaking his meaning. Two; that meant no Sam. And Dean didn't just want him to stay on earth, or stay with him for a while, but he wanted Castiel to _be_ with him. That was probably as close to saying _I love you_ as Dean would ever get. But instead of being happy, which Castiel was, he had to have certainty. He had to make sure that this was what Dean wanted.

'Are you sure? Because you say that you have disappointed me, but that is not true. You've been stupid and careless, but you have never intentionally hurt me. I, with the souls, I hurt you,' he mumbled and Dean took his hand. There was a sharp look of hurt on Dean's face at the memory. This might be one of those cuts that never heal, Castiel thought, and it pained him to think that he had been the one to make it. Humans with their sayings; time heals all wounds. Not true. Or was it, time wounds all heels?

'I am sure,' Dean simply said.

'I love you, Dean,' Castiel answered and he smiled at Dean. However, something was not right about the moment. There was a familiar, yet alien sound that Castiel could hear. It was difficult to concentrate with Dean touching him, but he tilted his head and tried nonetheless, asking Dean, 'Do you hear something?'

'No. Do _you_ hear something?'

'I hear Sam and Bobby talking downstairs, the wind rustling the leaves of the trees outside, the house groaning...' Castiel summed up, but Dean interrupted him with an annoyed sigh.

'Anything specific?' the hunter asked. The sound seemed to come from within Castiel and it was clear that Dean couldn't hear it. There were noises that Castiel, as an angel, could perceive that humans could never hear. The silence, the dark; they all have their own distinctive selection of sounds. Silence: sort of whispery, sometimes a high pitched tone, often a low humming. Darkness: a buzzing sound of things to come. Both gave off regular, constant sounds. This sound, however, there was something undeniably, though mysteriously, human about it.

'It's a sort of thumping noise; it sounds a bit like your heartbeat,' Castiel said.

'But it isn't?'

'No, because I can hear your heartbeat separate from it. This sound is much faster and louder,' Castiel said and understanding dawned in Dean's eyes. With a comprehending smile, Dean placed Castiel's hand on the angel's chest. Under his palm, Castiel could feel the noise. His chest pulsed with it.

'Baby, that's your heart,' Dean whispered. It couldn't be his heart. His heart, or rather Jimmy Novak's heart, had a rhythm that never changed and never wavered. Ever since he had taken Jimmy's body as his vessel, Castiel couldn't remember a time when his heart rate had been anything other than 70 beats per minute. Exactly 70 beats per minute; he had counted. At rest, fighting, and even wounded at the hospital; his heartbeat was forever set at this steady pace. What about that other time with Dean that didn't happen? The only thing he could recall about the organ then was how it had inexplicably hurt.

'Baby? Babe? Handsome? Honey? Darling? What do I call you? Dear?' Dean asked. Dean's hand was still over Castiel's hand on his chest and it felt warm. The warmth wasn't the heat of Dean's hand over his, but a warmth spreading from within. It _was_ Castiel's heart that was pounding and expanding his chest. It was happiness.

'I've always liked Cas,' Castiel admitted, shyly and Dean grinned.

'Yeah, let's just say you're dear to me and leave it at Cas.'

The hunter's face came closer and Dean pressed their lips together. It was a very slow kiss and Castiel relished the feel of Dean's hand on his chest and the other one resting in the small of his back. The taste of Dean was delicious. It left a familiar taste in his mouth of home and happiness long after their mouths parted. Dean's lips tasted like love and sex. In the sex department the kiss was a bit disappointing though. Of course, the kiss was wonderful; Castiel couldn't imagine any kiss with Dean ever being anything less than wonderful, but it wasn't like before. It wasn't urgent and needy.

For years Castiel had worried about showing Dean he loved him. He could never say what he felt, so he had tried to show Dean by saving him and protecting him and being there for him, but he had been very careful not to go too far. There were boundaries that Castiel had set for himself and he couldn't cross them. It was not allowed to touch Dean like he wanted to touch him and to tell Dean what he really felt for him. Except now it was gloriously no longer forbidden and Castiel just wanted to bend over and tell Dean to take him. But you couldn't do that. You couldn't say things like that, could you? They did that it the film with the pizza man and the babysitter, but that was porn and Sam was always telling Dean not to confuse reality with porn. This was reality, so Castiel couldn't say that. Reality kind of sucked.

(***)

John Lennon was once asked if he harbored a grudge against the Nixon Administration for mounting a multi-year attempt to deport him. Lennon smiled and said, 'Time wounds all heels.'


	4. Reason why

**Chapter ****4: Reason why**

Dean's POV

So, yes, they needed to get out of this room, because Cas was looking all kinds of hot and there was a bed in here. The angel had responded to his kiss, but still, for all Dean knew Cas would be happy living like monks with him. Sex and love weren't necessarily connected in his inexperienced mind. Cas' love was obviously very pure and chaste, so Dean would have to be careful. Not that Dean was going to take a vow of celibacy anytime soon, but perhaps a vow not to ruin Cas' innocence was in order. Not all at once, anyway. He was going to have to be patient. Stripping away that innocence layer by layer. Bad choice of words that; stripping.

'Proceed with caution' was practically stamped across the angel's forehead. Also, Dean might feel a little bit more comfortable if Cas wasn't an angel anymore. If he was just a human – well, not just, because Cas could hardly ever be just anything – then it wouldn't be so... so tainting and corrupting and debasing and defiling and tarnishing. Those were some really fancy words for what would essentially amount to having sex with Cas. Having sex with an angel; Dean had done that before, even though Anna was technically an ex-angel at the time, which Cas would hopefully also soon be.

Those words were all very wrong, yet they sounded so right. The truth was that Dean wasn't uncomfortable about the notion of making love to Castiel at all. The angel thing was not what was holding him back. There had been guys before, so that was not an issue. The virtue wasn't the problem either, if he had to be honest. It was Cas; that was the problem. The whole thing would _mean_ something. And if Dean said that he loved him then that would mean something too.

Terrifying prospect.

'Dean, was I an epic waffler? Like Hamlet?' Cas asked and Dean snapped back to attention.

'Hamlet? No, you were just waiting. I was being an idiot,' Dean answered. Hamlet? He was going to have to actually read plays – not even books, but _plays_ of all things – in order to understand the random references Cas came up with. Something that, strangely, he was not dreading. Anything for Cas. However, first things first: out of this tempting room, right now, Dean thought.

Cas followed him down the stairs and in the kitchen Dean saw Sam and Bobby sitting at different sides of the kitchen table, whispering. They looked guilty, as if Dean had caught them with their pants down. More likely, they had been talking about Cas and him with their pants down. Couple of sad sacks, getting no action, living vicariously through him.

'So, you two knew? Seriously, how about _telling_ me next time?' Dean demanded and they practically stumbled over each other explaining. Dean wouldn't have understood. He needed to find out for himself. It had been so obvious that they were convinced that he did know, because even Dean couldn't be that stupid.

Dean ignored the insult and eased himself into a kitchen chair. Not that those were comfortable. Bobby desperately needed to buy some new furniture, because every time Dean sat down or leaned against something in this house, he was afraid that it would collapse or crumble under his touch. Cautiously, Cas sat down opposite from Dean. The soon-to-be former angel was acting demure and meek. Maybe he does think about the sexual act and the thought frightens him, Dean thought.

'So, how does this work? You can just ungrace yourself or something? Like Anna,' Dean asked. Sam rolled his eyes.

'No, not like Anna, _Dean_. Because everybody thought she was crazy and she ended up in an asylum, because she could hear angels talking and they wanted to kill her and demons wanted to torture her for information and eventually she tried to kill us, or like you would say, make us unborn. Sounds like a great life.'

'You might want to dial the sarcasm down a notch, Sammy. Just saying,' Dean replied. Of course, he hadn't meant exactly like Anna. Obviously, the situation was different. Anna didn't have permission, Cas did. Dean was just curious how it would go and what it precisely meant.

'No, not like Anna. She disobeyed and rebelled. She fell,' Cas explained. There were disturbing parallels though. Cas had disobeyed and rebelled too. For Dean and later for his own selfish motives. What if the angel brigade was screwing him over one last time?

'So, your choice is a reward, because you've been a good soldier, aside from the whole God thing?' Dean asked. Maybe it was a little too good to be true. No more apocalypses, no more vessel nonsense and on top of that getting to be with a fully human Cas; those were a lot of good things to happen at once. And Christmas was a long way off.

'More like a severance package, right? I think they kind of want to get rid of him, so the option to become human is less of a reward and more of an incentive to leave. No offense, Cas,' Sam theorised and apologised.

'None taken. Sam is right. I am tired, I no longer believe with the conviction that is needed and I have done questionable things. They will remove my grace. I don't know how exactly; it is very complicated and might take some time. Paperwork...' Cas mumbled, but Dean interrupted him. Sometimes this supernatural shit was just as ridiculous as regular life.

'Paperwork? Bureaucratic bastards,' Dean objected and then something occurred to him, 'Fuck, you're not going to turn into a baby or anything?' Anna had. As much as Dean was worried about gently guiding Cas towards the physical act of love; he was also looking forward to it. Cas as a baby put a stop to that. Cas as a baby was not how he had pictured their new life at all.

'No.'

'Good.'

'I could keep this vessel if you liked,' Cas offered and Dean nodded gratefully.

'That would be nice. I mean, not that I care what you look like, but it would be weird if you suddenly looked different. We've all gotten used to you and I, I kind of like the way you look,' Dean stuttered and ignored the amused looks of Bobby and Sam. The truth was that he more than liked the way Cas looked. Those eyes, the bed hair, even his stupid trench coat. They were nice and familiar and linked to everything that Cas had said and done and Dean would be a bit upset if he lost them. On the other hand, it was Cas he wanted and not Jimmy Novak's body, but somehow the two had gotten inextricably linked in his mind.

'You do? I like your vessel too,' Cas said and the angel sounded pleasantly surprised that Dean looked at him in that way. Well, come on, Dean thought, Cas was handsome at the very least and sexy as hell to Dean.

'Body, Cas. Down here we call 'em bodies,' Dean dryly corrected him.

'I like your body,' Cas whispered and the angel blushed. It was adorable and hilarious if you went by the reaction of the other two hunters, who were, once again, snickering. Suddenly, Dean felt something in _that_ place. It felt a lot like... toes. Cas stared at him, with one of those intense and sexually charged looks. He had been throwing those Dean's way for ages, but Dean had never fully understood their meaning. Until now.

The angel had no idea what he was putting Dean through, as he wiggled his toes and Dean could feel himself beginning to get hard. Quickly, he pushed back his chair and stood up. Sam and Bobby backed away, as if Dean was going to kick their asses for all their stupid comments, but Dean was only hoping that his arousal didn't show. From where he was standing, he could see Castiel putting his foot back into his shoe under the table. This was going to be a long wait for Cas to become human.

(***)

A week later.

'So you haven't sealed the deal with Cas yet?' Sam asked Dean, as the older Winchester came down for breakfast. Bobby was probably somewhere outside, which was good, because Dean didn't want him to overhear this. Cas and he had been sharing a bed for a week now, but it hadn't happened. Dean had put it on hold, until Cas was human. Also, truth be told, no matter how much he wanted to make Castiel his own, Dean was having a lot of fun merely kissing and touching Cas.

'Have I ever given you the impression that we have that kind of a relationship?' Dean snapped. Sleeping with Cas took getting used to. The angel tossed and turned and made these delicious moaning sounds in his sleep. It wound Dean up, so he had to go to the bathroom and take care of himself. Most of the time, Cas only wore boxers, while Dean was rigidly sticking to actual pyjama pants and shirts. It was proving to be difficult to stick to that resolution, because it was early April and already too warm for that. In short: Dean didn't get a lot of sleep and the morning was not a good time to mess with him.

'Ehm, yes. We all know you're hot for Cas,' Sam said and he looked a bit confused. With open mouth he stared at Dean, slowly chewing his cereal, which disgusted Dean. Upon seeing Dean's expression, Sam quickly closed his mouth.

'Not Cas and me; you and me. We don't talk about this sort of thing,' Dean explained and he turned on the kitchen stove. Then he opened the fridge to take out eggs and bacon. Sam could stick to his healthy breakfast; Dean liked his morning meals greasy and artery clogging. He dumped everything into a frying pan with a clump of butter, put it on the stove and turned around again.

'Yeah, we do. You're constantly regaling me with the grossest stories of your sex life,' Sam protested and that was true. Guilty as charged. But how did Sam even know they hadn't had sex yet? Yes, Sam slept in the next room, but there was no lack of suggestible sounds. If Cas' dream moans weren't heated enough then the several dozen kissing sessions they had engaged in had produced a multitude of excited noises that could easily have been mistaken for 'sealing the deal.'

'How do you even know we haven't yet?'

'Cas told me,' Sam admitted and Dean thought, well, _of course_, 'So why haven't you? You usually don't wait this long.'

With his back to Sam and turning over the eggs and strips of bacon, Dean considered the question. He still had the same answers at the ready. Angel, virgin; both lies, but he threw them out, nonetheless. Sprinkling the contents of the pan with a generous amount of salt, Dean answered.

'He's all holy and shit. Not to mention, a virgin.'

To avoid having to look at Sam, he took a plate and knife and fork and waited by the stove. Drop the subject, Dean pleaded, just drop it. Naturally, Sam didn't obey. It hardly mattered that Dean hadn't said it out loud; Sam never listened to him anyway.

'But that's not why, right?' Sam needled, in that sympathetic, reasonable voice of his. Dean hated that voice. It was the same one that always told him to calm down. When did that ever help? People who were angry or whatever didn't just calm the fuck down simply because someone told them to. Suppressing a groan, he faced Sam.

'Don't psychoanalyse me, Sam,' he warned and thankfully Bobby chose that moment to enter the kitchen. Their friend washed his hands at the sink, scrubbing hard to get the motor grease off and dried his hands on his jeans before sitting down. Dean put the plate and the cutlery in front of him and slid the eggs and bacon onto it. Surprised, Bobby looked up and thanked him before tucking in. Sam silently chewed his cereal, while Dean plonked more heart attack inducing food into the pan.

Cas came down and wished them all a good morning. They all answered half-heartedly. It had been too long; they were getting on each other's nerves. Bobby didn't say anything, but Dean knew he wanted them out of his house. He wanted peace and quiet and being able to shower with hot water in the morning. That was not Dean's fault, by the way; Sam was the girl who always took hours showering. There was only one thing Bobby enjoyed and that was the TV they had bought him. Dean figured Bobby must be pretty tired of coming into the living room to watch TV, only to find Cas and him making out on the sofa.

They had resolved to leave for their own place once Cas had become human. Since none of them knew what would happen, it was thought to be safer to have the transformation take place away from civilization. No need to startle the good people of South Dakota with an angel turning into a human spectacle. That had been a week ago and nothing had happened. Dean had thought that paperwork-comment of Cas had been a joke, but apparently it hadn't, because otherwise he just didn't understand the holdup.

The angel's hair was wet. For the life of him, Dean could not teach him to towel dry it and he thought Castiel refused to learn it on purpose. Out of his trench coat, in one of Dean's sweaters and dark jeans and with his damn wet hair, Cas' appearance made Dean swallow hard. Or rather, Dean's throat was dry and something else was hard. So, now he had to eat standing at the counter and Sam already thought he was a huge pig. Cas brushed past him. That was definitely on purpose and Dean almost choked on his bacon.

The coughing got so bad that Sam got up and slapped Dean's back, even though Dean signalled that it wasn't necessary. Cas just calmly poured some milk over his coco puffs and didn't take his eyes off of Dean. The bastard is enjoying this, Dean thought. Without breaking eye contact, Cas sat down and started to eat. All of a sudden, Cas paused with his spoon in mid-air and he looked different. Sam and Bobby didn't seem to feel anything, but Dean felt that something had changed.

'I'm human,' Cas announced and the three hunters stared at him. Dean had to admit that he was caught off guard. Sam and Bobby seemed mightily surprised too. Perhaps they had all been expecting something more noteworthy, something that they at least would have noticed.

'That was anti-climatic,' Sam said and Dean thought that this perfectly voiced all of their opinions. It was a bit of a letdown. Cas shrugged.

'Instead of my grace being ripped from me; it slowly seeped away. I've felt it leaving the past week and now it's completely gone,' he said and continued eating. Dean was disappointed that Cas hadn't told him. There was something about Cas' casual reaction that made him think that Cas cared more than he was letting on. After all, even when he had been almost human before, he had retained his grace. It had been with him forever and now he had lost it. It wouldn't be strange if he missed it a little bit.

'Like radiation,' Sam remarked and Dean wished he hadn't said that. Now he worried about that and Bobby saw his concerned look.

'Don't worry, Dean. I don't think you two are going to be starting a family any time soon,' Bobby deadpanned. Cas kept eating, the conversation passing him by, while Sam chuckled and Dean glared at Bobby. The angel, no, he had to stop referring to him like that, Cas was miles away it seemed. Trying to draw him back to the here and now, Dean tapped his shoulder.

'Do you feel different without it?' he asked and Cas looked up. He dropped his spoon into the bowl. There was a wonder in his eyes that Dean had seen million of times before, yet, it had altered. His eyes seemed a little bit bluer and his face looked a little more... tangible. Cas took some time trying to articulate an answer.

'I no longer feel I am only in this body temporarily; I am this body,' he finally said. This is _my_ cue, Dean thought. Except he hadn't been waiting for it. He loved Cas, but he couldn't make love to him or tell him he loved him. All he could do was show it in other ways and maybe that was better? It wasn't, it was bullshit, and Dean knew it, but until he was ready that was all that Castiel was getting.

Castiel had become human. For him. And he still couldn't do it. Because he was still afraid. Still a fucking pansy. Not even the right kind. He was a coward. As Cas tried to look into his eyes, Dean averted his gaze, ashamed.


	5. Under my skin

**Chapter ****5: Under my skin**

Castiel's POV

'It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.'

There weren't many books in Bobby's living room/library that were not demon-related, but Castiel had managed to find a few. He had read _A tale of two cities_ by Charles Dickens and that first part of the first sentence was wonderful; he didn't care too much for the rest. It was all rather depressing, but that first sentence perfectly described how he felt the moment he first noticed his grace slipping away.

It had been the middle of the night, after the day that Castiel had decided to become human. Dean's hand had been splayed across his chest and his breathing had been almost imperceptible. Castiel's breathing had been shallow too. The house had been silent. _Really_ silent. The familiar sounds of silence had been gone. There had been no whispering, no humming, not even that high tone as if someone somewhere was tuning some instrument. Finally, Castiel had understood that what humans call silence is an absence of sound. It had been quiet, so quiet, and it had scared him. He had snuggled closer to Dean, but that first night he had lain awake listening to something that hadn't been there.

Every morning when he woke up it seemed that something new was gone. The next day he tried to teleport himself to the kitchen. His goal had been to startle Dean, which he knew was wrong; he wasn't supposed to use his powers for such juvenile purposes. He couldn't. Confused, he had tried again, but no matter how many times he tried, he was still in the same place.

On the morning of the second day, he had briefly thought that everything was fine. Then he nicked himself while shaving and the wound didn't heal instantly. Upset, he had gone downstairs and had kicked a car wreck in the salvage yard. Not only did that hurt his foot, but the wreck hadn't moved an inch. From that moment on, he had tried to behave like an ordinary human being, so he wouldn't notice if more of his powers went missing.

During the third night, the dark had stopped its vague buzzing about possible futures.

The thing that he perhaps missed most was the feeling of being connected to his brothers - the other angels - that disappeared on the fourth day. It was an artificial connection; the way a wife felt connected to her husband of twenty years, until she finds out that he has been having a mistress for the entire duration of their marriage. It was a lie, Castiel knew that, but it had felt terribly valid and now it was no longer there. He didn't understand why it bothered him so.

The angels had never felt like real brothers, not like how Dean and Sam were brothers. The Winchesters would sacrifice everything for each other and at times they had. In addition, the bond Castiel shared with Dean was much stronger than anything ingrained. It had developed into a deep love that nothing could erase. Castiel could not imagine that it could be removed as easily as his grace. As long as he was alive his love for Dean would be right there.

The fifth day he looked into Dean's eyes and didn't hear what Dean was feeling. Strangely, Castiel didn't mind. He could still read Dean's facial expressions and interpret the smallest gestures to deduce what he was thinking. Plus, Dean would tell him if there was something he needed to know.

There were things that he had gained too. Since the sixth day, whenever he thought about Dean very graphic images would pop into his head. They made him blush. When Dean kissed him it felt even better than before. He just felt it... more. His senses seemed heightened and his emotions intensified. Dean only had to smile at him and his heart pounded in his chest and it actually hurt. Everything was brighter and more colourful and an annoyed sigh from Bobby could result in spending ten minutes in the bathroom, trying to tell his reflection in the mirror that it was not meant as a personal affront.

Also, coco puffs: they were exquisite. Castiel had started eating them as a sort of compromise between Sam's dull but healthy cereal and Dean's flavourful but cholesterol raising eggs and bacon. On the seventh day, between one spoon and the next, the food transformed into something heavenly. Before he always thought that to describe something as 'heavenly' or 'divine' was a bit irreverent, but now it was simply the truth.

The chocolaty goodness, the cold and creamy milk, the difference in texture between the smooth milk and the coarse puffs, the crunchy sounds they made in his mouth: now he understood why people were cranky it they were out of coco puffs in the morning. It made perfect sense. Castiel could imagine starting an apocalypse if someone dared to steal his coco puffs.

He ate another spoonful and his grace was gone. Just like that. And he kind of missed it. Dean noticed the change, but he couldn't grasp the full extent of what Castiel had lost. To stay positive, Castiel attempted to focus on what he had gained and not what he had given up.

'I no longer feel I am only in this body temporarily; I am this body,' he said. Dean seemed curiously saddened too as he avoided Castiel's gaze.

'I've lost my grace,' Castiel mumbled. It meant the same essentially. _I am this body. I've lost my grace._ Before, he had been more than the vessel; he had been beyond the corporeal. Dean put his hand on Castiel's shoulder and the warmth felt comforting.

'No, you haven't. You have lost your angel grace, but you've still got your human one,' Dean protested. Castiel smiled gratefully at Dean, but he felt only a little assured. Bobby had resumed eating his breakfast, but his eyes were fixed on Castiel. It's obvious that I am different, Castiel thought. Then Sam put his bowl on the counter, sat down next to Castiel and pitched in.

'I have to agree with Dean here. You're still pure of heart _and shit_,' the younger Winchester said and Dean kicked his brother under the table. Was he pure of heart? His fantasies about Dean said otherwise. His desire to sleep with Dean and to feel every inch of Dean's skin under his fingers told a different story.

(***)

After breakfast they loaded the baggage they had into the trunk of the Impala. It was still full of weapons, but their belongings barely filled two duffle bags and they fitted nicely. Sam and Dean hugged Bobby; Castiel merely awkwardly shook his hand. Dean handed the keys of the car to Sam, told him he could drive and took Castiel's hand.

'So you can make out with your boyfriend?' Sam mocked.

'Shut up,' Dean said, but he smiled at Castiel and gently squeezed his hand. They got in the backseat while Sam got in the driver seat. On purpose, Sam made a big show of adjusting the seat so his tall body would fit, while Dean, who was sitting directly behind him, practically got squashed. A tug of war ensued between the brothers, with Sam insisting that he needed the leg room and Dean complaining loudly. Tired of their shenanigans, Bobby rolled his eyes, told them through the open driver's window to send him their new address and went inside.

'Then I'm going to have to sit in Cas' lap. You don't mind, do you Cas?' Dean said and without waiting for an answer Dean shuffled so close that Castiel found himself pressed against the window. With one eye on Sam, Dean started to kiss Castiel. As always, it was wonderful, but Castiel felt a little uneasy about kissing while Sam was watching. Sure, Bobby had walked in on them kissing a couple of times, but now Dean was kissing him with the specific intention of irritating his brother. This wasn't exactly how Castiel had pictured their dream scenario coming true; _Dean's_ dream scenario.

'You mind not violating the virgin while your brother is watching?' Sam protested feebly and, after kissing Castiel once more for good measure, Dean stopped with a smirk. His hand remained lightly resting on Castiel's thigh and Castiel had to exercise some serious self control not to squirm a little to the right.

'So whereto, man with the plan?' Dean asked. Since Castiel had decided to become human, the older Winchester had left Sam in charge of finding them an apartment. Sam was the one who knew what he wanted to do with the rest of his life, while Dean and Castiel didn't have any idea yet, so the younger brother had been allowed to decide where they would live.

'Vermillion. I've called about a two bedroom apartment,' Sam said and he put the car into gear.

'What happened to going back to Stanford?' Dean asked, while Sam backed the Impala out of the salvage yard.

'It would be too weird. I'm not that guy anymore. They've got a great law school in Vermillion and it's only an hour's drive, so we can easily visit Bobby or Bobby can visit us. He's the only family we have left; I don't want to move to another state.'

'You've really thought this through,' Dean said with barely disguised awe in his voice. Sam looked into the rear view mirror and shook his head in disapproval. _I'm not that guy anymore_, he had said, but Sam had not lost his grace. Yes, he had lost people, but somehow Castiel didn't think that was entirely what Sam meant. His experiences had changed him; they had formed a new Sam. Which of those two was more important? Castiel found it difficult to determine whether his past or his grace had made him. If it was his grace then he had lost himself today, but if it was his memories then he was still intact.

'Well, _someone _had to. It's not like I'll be doing any studying for at least a year or so, but we can get acquainted to the surroundings and get jobs and such,' Sam replied. That was very sensible and what Sam said was certainly true. Dean and Castiel had been too wrapped up in their new relationship to worry about the future, so it was only right that Sam had been so thorough. Dean's hand, still resting on Castiel's thigh, twitched and the former hunter seemed to have an idea, but he did not share it with Castiel. All he did was stare at his brother while he was driving.

After a while, the silence in the car - actual silence again - was starting to unnerve Castiel. He thought of something to say to fill it.

'That was ironic: that I thought I had to threaten to kill you to get you to profess your love unto me,' he finally said and naturally it was the most inappropriate thing to say. Not only was he not sure whether he understood the concept of irony, but he had also referred to the darkest moment in their shared history. Sam calmly stared at the road as if he hadn't heard anything, but it was Dean's reaction that had Castiel worried. He stiffened and rigidly took his hand off Castiel, until he suddenly appeared to change tactics. Moving even closer than before, Dean pressed his body against Castiel's.

'I'd like to be onto you. And into you. And all over you,' he whispered into Castiel's ear. It was just loud enough for Sam to hear and Castiel could hear the younger Winchester shift uncomfortably in his seat. Long after Dean had resumed his seat, Castiel could still feel his hot breath on his ear.

'What?' he squeaked. His voice had gone weird and wobbly and was very high. That might be the result of something happening in his pants.

'I've got to teach you how to talk dirty,' Dean said and he winked at Castiel. From the driver's seat came a strangled moan and Sam begged, 'Oh God, make it stop.'

(***)

They settled in fairly quickly. Sam got a job in construction to save for university and Dean worked in a bar. Castiel was still unsure of what to do and Dean said they had to give him an identity first, so he could not get a job yet. Apparently, existing in the flesh wasn't enough; you needed to exist on paper too. Dean worked only part-time; Friday, Saturday, Sunday and Monday and after hours he taught Castiel to play pool. On Thursday evenings, they would make the drive over to Bobby or Bobby would drive over to Vermillion and the four of them would sit around drinking beer. Not being an angel anymore meant that Castiel got a lot drunker a lot faster.

It soon became clear that, even though Dean had promised Sam that he wouldn't attempt anything illegal, he was learning Castiel to play pool in order to make money. Castiel was a quick study and he always enjoyed spending time with Dean, so when, after a week of practising, Dean took him to a bar on a Tuesday evening, he didn't suspect anything untoward to occur. Therefore, it was doubly unpleasant when Dean approached a few strangers and bet them that Castiel could beat them at pool. He whispered in Castiel's ear that he should lose the first few rounds. The situation made him feel very uncomfortable and he was not a good liar, but he tried for Dean's sake. Nonetheless, the first night was a complete failure.

The next day they went to a different bar and he begged Dean to be allowed to tell the truth. Grumpily, Dean agreed. That night they made two thousand dollar before getting kicked out of the bar. For some reason when Castiel warned people that they should not bet against him because he always won, they never believed him. They seemed to think he was lying or that he was overestimating his abilities. Dean said that his honesty worked like a charm, but it still felt a bit wrong to take so much money from these people.

'Apparently, you can only lie when you're trying to become God,' Dean joked after another successful night a week later. Castiel tried to laugh, but it didn't come out right. There had been no bitterness in Dean's voice, but still the casual remark hurt Castiel. He wasn't convinced that Dean would ever be able to move past that moment. They were dating and they were happy. Castiel thought that they were happy, but something seemed to be underlying that happiness and he was afraid to ask Dean what it was.

(***)

After three weeks of quietly living in Vermillion and keeping their extracurricular activities from Sam, which Castiel thought might be giving him an ulcer, Bobby was scheduled to come by. It was not evening and it was not Thursday and Sam was at work, but they needed to discuss something. Dean was in the bathroom when the doorbell rang, so Castiel answered the door expecting it was Bobby. A very thin woman was standing on the doorstep. He was unsure of what to do. There was a procedure, a routine that needed to be followed whenever a stranger came to the door, he knew that much, but he wasn't familiar with that procedure.

'Do you accept Jesus Christ as your personal saviour?' the woman asked. He was a bit tired of religion, but it would hardly be polite to say that to the woman. She was holding a Bible, he now saw, so she obviously wasn't tired of it. Explaining that he had been an angel wouldn't help matters either, he suspected.

'I don't know. I have to ask my boyfriend. Dean!' Castiel called out, but when he turned around the woman was already making her way down the stairs. Well, that was a bit rude. She could have at least waited for his answer. Dean came into the living room wearing his fluffy bathrobe. Castiel loved that bathrobe. Sometimes he took a shower simply so that afterwards he could feel the soft fabric against his skin. Sam was always complaining about the water bills, but Sam also took unnecessarily long showers, thus, Castiel didn't feel guilty.

'Bobby?' Dean asked, glancing at the still open door. Castiel quickly shut it and explained about the woman and her question. Dean laughed when Castiel told him what he had said, but then he turned serious.

'You can't answer questions of strangers with personal information,' Dean explained and Castiel wanted to ask why, but Dean's collarbones were beckoning him. He pressed his lips to them, but when he wanted to slip his hands into the bathrobe Dean stopped him.

'Bobby can be here any minute,' Dean said and he vanished into their bedroom. Castiel frowned. If he wasn't mistaken Dean wanted to have sex as much as he did, but for some reason he always held him off. The doorbell rang again, interrupting his thoughts, and this time it was Bobby. Dressed, Dean emerged from the bedroom and they sat down at the kitchen table.

'So, Sam's thirtieth birthday is in a week and I want to throw him a party,' Dean said and Bobby nodded. Humans were very meticulous about celebrating the passing of time, though their measurement of periods was a bit arbitrary. 365 days; what was significant about that?

'It can't be just the four of us. That's not a party, that's a Thursday night,' Dean said and Castiel protested, 'But the second of May...'

'...is a Thursday. Yes, Cas, but it can't be like a regular Thursday. It has to be special. Just us: that would be kind of pathetic. This is the first proper birthday he will have in some time. I've made a list of people to invite, but it's short. Like depressing short,' Dean said and he put a tiny piece of paper on the table. Castiel got up and poured Bobby some coffee. That was a procedure he knew. If guests came over you gave them coffee.

'I tried to call this gallery chick that Sam once liked, but she'd gotten married. Other than that I've got Lisa and Ben, Balthazar. That's it,' Dean summed up and he looked kind of defeated as he stared at the three names. Bobby opened his mouth, but without taking his eyes off the list, Dean pointed at Bobby.

'Don't look at me like that.'

'But these are not Sam's friends,' Castiel said, confused.

'Constructive criticism, Cas,' Dean admonished him and he sounded tired.

'That's basically one of your exes and her kid and a resurrected angel,' Bobby chimed in. He tried to sound amused, but it didn't quite work. Dean sighed out of frustration.

'I know, but we can't afford to be picky. I don't know if you've noticed, but most of our friends have died. Hell, the three of us have died too. Maybe I can invite some of the guys Sam works with or some nice girls who study at the University of South Dakota?' Dean offered. Parties should be fun, Castiel thought. That was what he knew about them. He had mistakenly thought that planning a party would be fun too. Eventually, they decided to stick to the four of them and go to a proper restaurant for a change.

(***)

May 2, 2013.

'This is nice. Thanks for taking me here, you guys,' Sam said and he did sound happy. They were seated by the window. The restaurant was indeed much nicer than the usual places they went too, Castiel thought, but he wondered whether they sold cheeseburgers here. Bobby handed Sam an envelope. Castiel could practically feel Sam trying to keep his expectations low, so he could display the proper degree of gratitude. However, when he saw what was inside the envelope, he jumped up and hugged Bobby.

'Look Dean; a Mustang. My own car,' Sam yelled and a couple of the other guests glanced in their direction. Dean showed Castiel the photo that Bobby had taken of a car wreck. Underneath all the rust and dents was indeed something that resembled a car. Bobby gruffly muttered something about maybe working on it together until it was restored and Sam hugged him again. Awkwardly, Bobby cleared his throat.

'Now Dean, what have you got for your brother?' Bobby asked and he was blushing a bit.

'This is from Cas and me,' Dean said and he handed Sam another envelope. This one was a lot thicker than Bobby's had been and Castiel felt proud. It was an emotion with negative connotations, but after what Castiel had gone through, he felt he deserved to be proud. Eagerly, he waited until Sam had opened the envelope. The younger Winchester's eyes widened and he quickly looked around the restaurant to see if anyone had noticed what he was holding. He leaned closer to his brother.

'Dean, how much money is in here?' he hissed. Dean calmly answered that it was about thirty-five thousand dollars; enough to get Sam through at least the first year of law school. Castiel watched Dean fiddle with his cutlery, while he explained that he had looked at the USD website and seen how much tuition and other expenses cost.

'Now you can start in September,' Dean mumbled. Sam stared at him with his mouth open. For a second, it appeared he was going to ask how they had gotten the money, which would certainly have spoiled the mood, but then he just got up. There were tears in his eyes when he hugged Dean and then Castiel.

'Pussy,' Dean whispered, also trying to blink away tears and Sam smiled. The rest of the night was a roaring success, though there were no cheeseburgers on the menu and Castiel committed another offense against public decency. When the waitress brought their desserts and put the banana split in front of him, something popped into Castiel's mind and he spoke before thinking.

'Do you think of me when you masturbate?'

The waitress let out a little shriek, while Dean flushed bright red and Sam and Bobby dissolved into laughter.

'Cas!' Dean breathed. This was one of those things that you couldn't say, apparently, even though Castiel had really wanted to know. After the meal, they walked home, since the restaurant was not far from their apartment and Sam attempted to explain with a straight face why it was unacceptable to discuss such personal things in public. Castiel nodded, but when Dean and Bobby had wandered away from them he tried to tell Sam that it was difficult. Now that his powers were gone he could no longer just tap into Dean's mind and there had always been a blind spot. When it came to how Dean felt about him, Castiel could rarely get an accurate impression; his feelings for Dean usually got in the way.

They quickly overtook the other two and Dean took his hand. This feeling he had when he was holding Dean's hand was so intimate that he hardly thought having sex with Dean could improve their closeness. Whenever Dean touched him, Castiel knew with absolute certainty that losing his grace meant absolutely nothing. He had changed more in the six years since he had met Dean than in that one week when his grace slipped away. Those changes that Dean had wrought in him mattered more.

He was the sum of his experiences and not the sum of his angelic powers. That night when he lay next to Dean, he listened to nothing. Castiel had gotten used to the silence and with Dean's warm body against his he was convinced he had done the right thing in becoming human. Dean deserved to be happy and Castiel could make him happy. That night he slept like a baby.

'It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to, than I have ever known.'

(***)

Both quotations are from _A tale of two cities_ by Charles Dickens; respectively the first and last sentence of the novel.


	6. Answering the door

**Chapter ****6: Answering the door**

Dean's POV

'You could be a teacher. Teach religious studies or something,' Sam suggested. Dean rolled his eyes.

'Like Cas is going to be a teacher; he's a soldier, for fuck sake,' he said and Castiel didn't say anything. He just sat there quietly, looking happy. Dean envied him, he really did. He wanted to be that happy, and sometimes he was. However, there was always this fear that someone somehow was going to screw this up. Most likely Dean himself.

'Anyway, there's no record of him being born and he still doesn't have a social security number. How are you going to swing that?' Dean asked Sam. It was supremely unhelpful, he knew that, but he couldn't stop himself. Cas needed to be around him. They had stopped with hustling people at pool, since Dean knew that Sam frowned upon it and there were only so many bars in Vermillion. Now, when Dean was working at night, Cas sat on the other side of the bar and watched him. Women came on to both of them and whenever that happened Dean smiled. If they were aiming for him, Cas became a bit jealous and when they were after Cas he looked so flustered and cute before gently brushing them off.

The older Winchester felt he needed to watch his friend. There was something still so naive and trusting about him that brought out a desire in Dean to protect him from harm. They jogged together, which Dean hated, because jogging made him feel just plain ridiculous. His heart raced and he gasped and spluttered and there were these stabbing pains in his side and all the while he was thinking; what the hell am I doing? Cas, on the other hand, despite zapping everywhere for the biggest part of his life, could run circles around him. That was exactly what he did whenever Dean needed a breather, which was about every ten minutes.

They took long walks together. Not on the beach; there weren't a lot of those in South Dakota, thank God. Cas would behave like a kid; dragging Dean every which way, pointing out everything from ducks to buildings he liked. The former angel was so carefree, as if he had been holding on for such a long time and then decided to just let go. Let the stream take him wherever it may, while he floated around with an adorable smile on his face. Yes, Cas had allowed himself to be happy. If only it was that simple for Dean.

Sometimes being with Cas was painful. He'd hear that voice or see that smile and he thought he'd fucking die. And Cas kept saying how happy Dean made him, how much he loved him and how much he was enjoying their life. Those felt like punches and the hits just kept on coming.

Sam was also beyond thrilled. The steadiness of their existence, the normalcy of it; Sam thought it was pretty wonderful. He raved about not having to worry about demons. Bobby sometimes called to say he'd gotten one and one time Dean had gone out to hunt one down with him, leaving Sam and Cas at home. _At home_, didn't that sound fucking fantastic? Sam had vowed to take good care of Cas, though his brother couldn't refrain from making fun of Dean for being worried. Cas was a grown man, after all; he could take care of himself.

(***)

It was June before Dean allowed Cas to go off on his own, because he'd realised he'd become _that_ guy. The clinging, suffocating boyfriend he'd never in a million years thought he'd ever become. Not that Cas minded; he bore every insane demand of Dean with infinite patience. It was the patience that annoyed Dean; it was a Sam sort of patience and it wound him up to the point where he wanted to whip out the God thing. Again Dean was ashamed of his behaviour. He was like the one in their relationship who kept bringing up Cas' past mistake in every argument. It was simply easier to feel that sense of betrayal than to surrender to loving Cas.

He was such a loser.

Because he already had. He had loved Cas for a long time, maybe since that first moment, when the angel had looked at him and called him on his bullshit about thinking he didn't deserve to be saved. And he was crazy in love with him. Cas and he had talked about Cas losing his grace. Other than that one second in Bobby's kitchen where Dean had felt that something was different, he had noticed no change. Of course, Cas had lost things, but in the end he was still Cas. He only had to take one look at Dean to know when to be silent or when to talk. Dean would be sitting on the couch feeling a little lost and Cas would touch his arm and he knew the other man understood.

Those little things got to him. Cas buying the fabric softener Dean liked. Cas telling Sam to shut it whenever his brother was about to give a lecture. Cas kissing his collarbones. Cas performing a thousand little tasks and making small gestures designed solely to make Dean feel better. To make Dean happy.

Getting into the shower with Dean and washing his hair. Cas' hands on his shoulders, in his hair, softly rinsing out the shampoo. And never once asking why they hadn't made love yet, when Dean knew that Cas desperately wanted to. Cas was hot for him; Dean now realised. They'd lie in bed together and he could feel the bulge in Cas' boxers, but Cas never pushed. It was that maddening patience again; the one that infuriated and endeared Dean simultaneously.

(***)

A Saturday in July.

Cas had gone out on one of his long walks. He'd asked Dean along, but Dean had declined, sensing that what Cas really wanted was to be alone for a while. Sam was on the couch watching TV with the volume off and a book about civil law in his lap. Some of his birthday money had gone towards buying course material. Like a true nerd, he was reading up before school even started. Dean was sitting in the kitchen and thus also in the living room, since it was really one big room. There was a book propped up on the table before him too. Reading wasn't really for him; he had realised that a long time ago, but today he was trying.

'Enter Hamlet,' Dean mumbled and he turned the page. People were always entering and exiting. There were a lot of characters and Dean was having trouble keeping them separated. He purposely sat in the kitchen, because he couldn't concentrate if he sat on the couch. The couch was too comfortable and the TV was too close. It was just that whenever Dean read the word 'enter' he either thought about Cas in an inappropriate way or a little key on a computer.

'Ha, Shakespeare and computers,' Dean muttered and Sam looked at him. There was a weary look in Sam's eyes.

'Dean, that means that the actor playing Hamlet appears on stage. It has nothing to do with computers,' his brother explained. Dean tried not to roll his eyes, but it was hard.

'I know that.'

'Why are you reading Hamlet?' Sam asked and he shut his undoubtedly boring book. Stretching his tall body, he stood up from the couch and ambled over to Dean.

'Cas said he was an indecisive son of a bitch,' Dean said and, when Sam put on his lecture face, he quickly added, 'Don't spoil the ending, Sam, I'm only halfway through.'

His brother managed to be quiet for a little while, but Dean couldn't focus on the words. Sam paced behind him, then sat down at the kitchen table too and leaned his chin on his hands. Dean looked up, but Sam was not looking at him. The door had his undivided attention, as if he was expecting something. There was a satisfied smile on his face and Dean attempted to get back to Hamlet and his drama. Suddenly, Sam sighed and Dean gave up.

'What?'

'We've got our own door,' Sam said. Dean glanced at it. The significance was lost on him.

'Technically, it's not ours. We're renting it,' he corrected. Sam continued to stare at the door and his happiness was starting to grate.

'Yes, but we could paint it if we wanted to,' Sam added. So what? Dean wanted to ask. If this was some elaborate ruse to rope him into painting the entire apartment than that wasn't going to fly. Once Sam's school started, they would most likely split. Sam would live on campus or get an apartment near the university and Cas and Dean would stay. So, it was really Dean's apartment and he liked the colour of the walls. Well, he didn't _hate_ it, not enough to go through the hassle of painting anyway.

'We would have to get permission from the landlord,' Dean said, but Sam glared at him, so he amended, 'but _you_ could paint it, yes.'

A knock on the door startled Dean and Sam regarded him with amusement. It wasn't funny. Whenever Castiel wasn't there, Dean always felt very ambiguous about the door, like it was the harbinger of bad news. Sam opened the door. It was just a girl scout selling cookies and Sam bought a box.

'What was _that_? You're panicky,' Sam said as he tore open the package and popped one of the cookies into his mouth. Demonstratively, Dean opened his book and started over at the top of the page.

'Do not disturb. I'm reading,' he said and Sam chuckled. Dean practically jumped out of his chair when he heard another knock on the door. Frowning at Dean, Sam opened it and this time it was Castiel.

'Dude, you've got a key,' Sam reminded him, but Castiel completely ignored him and walked over to Dean. The former angel pulled Dean up and planted a big, sloppy kiss on him. Then he nuzzled Dean's neck, whispering that he'd missed him. It was corny as hell, but Dean loved it.

'Less talking, more kissing,' Dean chided, as he followed Castiel into their bedroom and shut the door. They tripped over a pile of Dean's discarded clothes and fell on the bed. Cas laughed as he tried unsuccessfully to tug off Dean's shirt, but settled for ducking his head under there and kissing his way up to Dean's collarbones. To say that Cas harboured a slight fixation on his collarbones was putting it mildly. When he reappeared again, his hair was ruffled and he was grinning. Dean smiled back at him and kissed him hard. There was something about kissing Castiel that never got old. Very gently, Cas put his hand on the bulge in Dean's jeans. He looked at Dean. Dean didn't move, didn't breathe, didn't speak, but Cas _knew_ and he removed his hand.

They spend the rest of the afternoon in the bedroom, just talking and kissing. A certain Danish prince was left all but forgotten on the kitchen table.

(***)

A Wednesday in July.

Dean was taking a shower. Cas would be home in a minute and they'd eat chicken wings, because Cas loved those and watch _Kill Bill_ part one and two, because Dean loved those. They had been going to rent _Terminator_, but something about the film seemed to make Cas a bit uncomfortable, though he had tried to hide it. Dean had noticed that Cas was not a fan of time travel films. Just one of those things, he guessed.

Someone knocked on the door. Dean pushed aside the shower curtain.

'Cas, if that's you; use your key. I'm in the shower,' he yelled. If that's not you, I don't care, he thought. He hummed as he grabbed the soap. Another knock. Dean ignored it. Sam was hanging out with a couple of new friends and he'd told them not to wait up. It couldn't be Sam and Cas had a key with him. Dean had specifically told him to take it, before Cas left to get the food. Another knock. Man, this was getting annoying. He made one last effort to drown out the sound with humming, but when another knock followed he turned off the shower and put on the fluffy bathrobe. Grumpily, he stalked over to the door.

'Cas!' he breathed, when he opened the door and Castiel slumped into his arms. His face was a mess; his hair was matted with blood, his lips thick and split. Dean dragged him to the couch and when he tried to get up to grab something, Cas wouldn't let go of his wrist. It was one of those bastards we hustled, Dean thought. This is all my fault for forcing him to do that, Dean thought. Castiel tried to speak and Dean leaned closer.

'I forgot, Dean. I'm sorry,' he slurred. Fuck, he thinks he needs to apologise, to_ me_, Dean thought. Dean could just about cry.

'Don't worry about the key. That doesn't matter,' Dean comforted him and tried to release his wrist from Castiel's grip, but Cas only held on tighter. His face, his beautiful face; Dean could see bruises and swellings forming under the blood. At least the blood was congealing. It was no longer flowing. Cas would be alright, but not really. Not really, thanks to Dean.

'No, not that. They asked where I was going...' Cas whispered. His voice was so soft that Dean could barely hear it. There was a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach, like his entire life got pulled right the fuck out from under him. _They._ He was going to kill them.

'...and you said you were going to your boyfriend?' Dean finished and Cas nodded.

'That's when they...' Cas added. It _was _Dean's fault. He had done this. Made Cas choose to become human, made him lose his powers and now he was defenceless. The worst thing was that he hadn't prepared Cas in any way. Hell, Cas probably didn't even know what gay or bisexual meant. They should have had the talk. The talk about prejudices and people's reactions and hate. Dean had known they would have to have the talk, but he hadn't wanted to have it. Because it was also about love.

And when it came to love Dean was as defenceless and afraid as Castiel was now. Fate: that was what he feared. A drunk driver, food poisoning, a heart attack. A bunch of homophobes. Castiel would be hurt or gone and he would be just as hurt. Just as gone. _Please, don't make me lose you too. _That's what it came down to.


	7. I want you part 1

**Chapter ****7: I want you (part 1)**

Castiel's POV

'Cas, you have to let me go. I'm going to call an ambulance,' Dean said, but Castiel's fingers dug deeper into Dean's wrist. They couldn't do that, Castiel thought; it would ruin everything. His lips hurt, his face hurt, his ankle hurt and they were all totally different pains. Throbbing and humming and stabbing and searing and the worst were the sharp, unbearable pains whenever he moved his left foot. It made him think he was dying, but Dean couldn't call the ambulance. He licked his lips because they felt so dry and winced when his tongue touched the raw, exposed flesh.

'No, I don't exist,' Castiel protested weakly. There was this wide eyed panic in Dean that Castiel had never seen before and it took a moment before Dean seemed to understand. There were no papers; no identity card, no driver's license, no insurance. They'd ask questions and Castiel or Dean wouldn't be able to answer them.

'Fuck that!' Dean swore and he gently unclasped Castiel's hand from his wrist and grabbed his cell off the kitchen table. Dean doesn't care, he thought, except about me. That made him feel a little better. His ankle hurt so much. He had barely managed to drag himself home, but now it seemed all his strength was gone and when he accidentally brushed his left foot with the right one he passed out.

(***)

He woke up, but couldn't open his eyes. It was strange. Also, he felt very woozy, as if he wasn't entirely awake yet. Like he was coming out of an extraordinarily deep sleep. He could hear voices that sounded as if they were coming from very far away. A little while later he recognised them as Sam and Dean's and realised they were actually in the room with him.

'...getting him an identity immediately,' Dean's voice insisted.

'Jimmy Novak,' Sam's voice said and he sounded tired.

'For now. Later we'll break into some town hall and change some birth certificates or hack a computer or something,' Dean's voice suggested and there was an edge of desperation to it that made Castiel feel sad. He tried to speak, but his lips wouldn't move.

'Dean, it's not that easy,' Sam's voice objected.

'Like hell it is! We've walked around pretending we were someone else for years. Don't tell me we can't do the same for him,' Dean's voice nearly shouted. Castiel attempted to move his lips again and they obeyed, but no sound came out.

'Calm down,' Sam's voice said quietly and Castiel waited for Dean's outburst. Dean hated for people to tell him to calm down; it only made him angrier. Rightly so, Castiel thought. Feelings didn't just go away, because someone told you to feel different. However, the outburst didn't come.

'I just... I don't want to worry about that. If something happens I want to be able to get him help,' Dean's voice replied. His voice was so quiet that it was almost a whisper.

'I know,' Sam's voice reassured and then it added, 'We'll work it out.' Maybe he could move something else, like a finger or a toe. Concentrating with all his might, Castiel managed to slightly reposition his hand.

'Cas?' Dean's voice asked and a warm hand covered his own. Without realising it, he smiled, which he only knew because suddenly his face hurt anew. It was a dull, subdued pain, but it was still unpleasant. Slowly, he wiggled his fingers and he felt Dean's lips on his hand. It made him want to open his eyes, so he could see Dean. Miraculously, he pried one eye open to a slit.

'Sam, would you get a doctor?' Dean's voice asked and Castiel could now see Dean and Sam. The younger Winchester smiled encouragingly at them before leaving the room. Castiel tried to say something, but only an unidentifiable croak came out.

'Cas...' Dean said and then his voice broke. They sat like that, Dean's thumb caressing Castiel's hand, until Sam returned with a doctor in tow. The doctor was holding a small, plastic sheet. Having been in the hospital before, Castiel knew what it was called. An X-ray.

'Hi Jimmy, I'm Miranda Teller. We've made an X-ray of your ankle,' she said and a warm, but detached smile beamed his way. The doctor put the X-ray up against a bright lamp in the wall and Castiel thought he could recognise the vague shape of a foot. She pointed towards a thin, almost undetectable black line in the bone.

'There's a fracture visible in the fibula; that's one of the ankle bones. It's a simple, clean break, so it most likely won't require surgery. We'll put it in a short leg cast and you'll have to come here once a week for a new X-ray to see if the fracture is healing properly. That'll take approximately six weeks during which it wouldn't be advisable to put any weight on the left leg. Other than that it's mostly your face, but as far as I can see you'll be okay once the swelling goes down. There are some superficial cuts and bruises in other places, but the ankle is really our primary concern,' she said.

Sam asked her questions about crutches and wheelchairs and she responded with clear and brief answers, while Castiel and Dean stared at each other. There was a look of intense relief on Dean's face and Castiel just wanted to hug him and tell him everything was going to be alright. The doctor left and a nurse replaced her. During the plastering of his foot, Bobby arrived.

'You look like shit, boy,' he announced, which earned him a disapproving glance from the nurse. Bobby ignored her and went into the hallway with Sam. Dean remained with Castiel, holding his hand. The whispering from outside grew angrier and louder by the second and the nurse kept peeking at the door. Castiel was 99 percent sure that Bobby had a shotgun hidden under his coat. It made him feel both grateful and slightly nauseous.

'This is not what he needs right now,' Castiel could hear Sam hissing. The two men came in after the nurse had finished putting on the plaster and told Castiel to lie still, before she left. He didn't need to be told. New sensations of pain could be felt all over every time he shifted and the general wooziness didn't help matters.

'What did they look like?' Bobby demanded, while Sam crossed his arms and glared at Bobby. Castiel looked at Dean. The former hunter looked conflicted. The truth was that Castiel didn't know what his attackers looked like. When he'd said that he was going to his boyfriend, he had not glanced in their direction; the response had been automatic, his thoughts had been elsewhere. What had happened after that had gone so fast.

There had been the unexpected pain and the blood and he was pretty much reduced to lying on the street and pleading. _Pleading._ An angel of the Lord, a warrior, a soldier; pleading for two men to stop hitting and kicking him. He hadn't even thought to try to hit them back. His body had suddenly felt vulnerable and awkward. Like a target instead of a weapon. Maybe that's what it felt like to be human.

'I...' he forced out and Dean softly squeezed his hand, 'I don't know.'

Bobby and, to a smaller extent, Sam looked disappointed. It was what they did, Castiel knew. When someone they cared about got hurt they took revenge. That was their way of dealing. He felt that he was failing them, because he was unable to provide anything useful.

The only thing that he could think of that he would recognise was their voices. They had yelled and taunted, hurling insults at him that he'd not been aware existed. However, if he passed them on the street and they would be talking to their wives or friends or children, he didn't think it would spark anything in him. Those voices full of hate were so different from everyday voices. It was the same with Dean's voice; if Dean was shouting in rage his voice was almost unrecognisable.

'That's ok, Cas. Let's just focus on getting you better,' Dean said and the other two men nodded, but Castiel noticed that Bobby gripped his shotgun a little tighter. After the doctor had come back and approved the cast, he was checked out. Castiel noticed that his name according to the chart was Jimmy Novak. They gave him crutches and he imagined it would be actually kind of cool to use them. In another situation perhaps, where his entire face didn't throb and he didn't need some pills for the pain in his ankle.

Dean looked about ready to chuck the crutches and carry him to the car, which would have been very romantic, Castiel thought. Instead, he stayed right by his side as Castiel wobbled to the parking lot and helped him into the Impala. Bobby shook Castiel's hand and he seemed to want to say something, but decided against it.

'Be well,' Bobby eventually ordered and his rough voice was a tad softer than usual. Sam drove, because Dean wanted to sit in the back with Castiel. The thing that he didn't understand was; why? Dean had warned him about divulging personal information to strangers. Still, why had they hurt him? They didn't know him and he had done nothing to hurt them. He didn't understand.

(***)

Three weeks later. The end of July.

Sam had gone over to Bobby's to work on his car. It was still nowhere close to being finished, but the grin on Sam's face every time he left for Bobby's told Castiel that he enjoyed working on it maybe even more than he would enjoy driving it. Castiel was lying on the couch, his head in Dean's lap, his foot propped up on some pillows. Currently, he was reading Hamlet, which Dean for some reason thought he'd read already. According to Dean, it was 'full of teen angst, but pretty epic.' While Dean was watching TV his fingers stroked Castiel's hair. Could life get any better? Yes, because Dean had been keeping his distance recently. Their physical relationship was practically nonexistent.

'Dean?'

'Hmm,' Dean mumbled. Castiel lifted his head and sat up straight. Dean quickly put a pillow on the coffee table and Castiel gratefully put his foot on it.

'Why did they beat me up?' he asked and Dean looked at him. Lately, whenever Dean looked at him, he always had a weary expression on his face. His touches had become very cautious. He treated Castiel like one of the pieces of furniture in Bobby's house; as if he was liable to crumble under his fingers. With one eye on the TV, Dean asked if they had to talk about that right now.

'Yes,' Castiel answered. Dean sighed loudly and turned off the TV.

'Because you said you had a boyfriend. They don't like men with boyfriends,' Dean explained. It was more than dislike. Castiel didn't like Sam's brand of cereal, but he wasn't about to try and stomp it into the ground. They had _hated_ him; because he had a boyfriend? Because he wanted Dean? Because he loved Dean?

'They hate me because I love you?' he asked. Dean leaned closer, allowing their shoulders to connect. His hand reached out for Castiel's, but at the last moment he put it on his own leg. That was going on all the time now. Dean would make a move as if he was going to touch him and then he'd change his mind. It drove Castiel crazy.

'Yeah, pretty much. You gotta love humans, huh?' Dean replied, sarcastically. His fingers drummed on his leg and Castiel thought about how he missed those casual touches. Nowadays, Dean only touched him without reserve if the gesture was unconscious. Like stroking his hair or softly sliding his hand into Castiel's in bed. Otherwise, everything was so precocious and careful. Castiel could practically see Dean milling over whether or not to touch him and it could take ages before he took a decision. Even then, he could change his mind at the last possible second and avert the motion.

'But why?' Castiel asked again.

'Because... Damn, this is hard. Some of them find the idea of two guys having sex repulsive. Some of them think it is unnatural,' Dean expanded and he pronounced the word 'unnatural' as if it was poison. He almost spit it out. Castiel nodded.

'Not natural, yes, I can see how regarding reproduction procedures it is not... handy, but sex isn't only about reproduction, is it? I mean, that's why you have the rubber thingies?' Castiel queried.

'Condoms, yeah. Also, there are religious reasons...' Dean continued, but Castiel interrupted him.

'I'm tired of religion. Interpretation is key. Up there is the punishment and the smiting; down here it is supposed to be about love and tolerance,' Castiel said. As much as he lacked conviction in religious matters, he still understood the basic principles. Judgement is reserved for God.

'That is another thing they don't like. I think the idea of one man feeling that kind of love for another man is disturbing to them. And sex... Love and sex are connected. Sure, it can be just sex, but it can also be about intimacy and sharing something really special and showing how much you love each other,' Dean went on. Castiel stared at him intensely and the older Winchester shielded his eyes. They were silent for a minute.

'That's all I've got. I don't understand it either. Don't you know all this? You watched us humans for forever. Haven't you figured out we suck?' Dean joked, but Castiel felt he was only half-joking. A car backfired outside the apartment and Castiel cringed. A worried look passed between them, but Castiel shook it off. Loud and unexpected noises still made him start and he sincerely hoped that this would soon be over.

'I'm glad I didn't get a good look at them,' Castiel said and Dean regarded him, surprised.

'I feel sorry for them. Because we don't understand them because they hate. But they don't understand us because we love. That's sad. Not that I wouldn't destroy them if given half the chance, but they're pathetic,' Castiel explained and Dean patted Castiel's leg, before quickly removing his hand. He _was_ glad. Dean would have hunted them and it would have become his sole purpose. Whether or not he would ever have found them; it would have ruined his life.

'You want to watch some of the films Sam rented for you? It's always hilarious to see what Sam thinks you would like,' Dean said and he got up from the couch. Castiel stuck a bookmark between the appropriate pages and put Hamlet on the table. Dean returned with a small stack of DVDs and read the titles.

'We've got Cocktail, Top gun, Serendipity, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead, and Jerry Maguire. Do you think Sam has a secret crush on Tom Cruise?'

Castiel picked out _Cocktail_ and they settled against each other on the couch. After a few minutes, Dean's right arm slung itself around Castiel's neck and his fingers started to softly caress Castiel's bare shoulder. Due to Dean's reticence regarding touching ever since the attack, Castiel basked in even the smallest amount of contact. At night, Dean would hold him and their skin would be hot against each other. The air conditioning would blow and whir like crazy and Castiel would realise it was too warm to lie like that, but he gladly sweated buckets for that embrace.


	8. I want you part 2

**Chapter 8: I want you (part 2)**

Castiel's POV

Three weeks later. Halfway August.

'You're watching Cocktail _again_?' Dean asked as he came into the living room, carrying a bowl of coco puffs, a carton of milk and a spoon. Castiel shook his head.

'Serendipity,' he answered, but then he saw the spoon that Dean had selected, 'I like the long one.'

'That's an ice cream spoon,' Dean objected, but Castiel pouted at him. Sighing, Dean took the offending spoon and traded it for an ice cream spoon in the kitchen. The former angel had already poured the milk over his coco puffs and was gesturing for Dean to hurry up, before they became soggy. Dean handed him the spoon and Castiel saw a miffed look appear on his face when he didn't thank him. Should have brought me the right spoon the first time, Castiel thought, as he tucked in. Dean went back to the kitchen side of the room, where Sam was sitting and reading the paper.

'He's driving me insane with his demands,' Dean whispered and when Sam chuckled, 'What's so funny?'

'That's how you know he's better; when he starts to abuse your help,' Sam said.

'I can hear you,' Castiel called out, with his mouth full of mush. After breakfast, it would be time for his last check up. At the hospital they would make a final X-ray and if everything was fine the cast was coming off. It was becoming very itchy, so this moment couldn't come soon enough for Castiel.

'She _is_ stupid,' Castiel mumbled as he watched the screen. Dean approached him from behind and Castiel tried to avoid it, but his shoulders ducked instinctively. Throwing up his hands, indicating he intended no harm, Dean backed away. As if I don't know you wouldn't hurt me, Castiel thought, and he silently cursed his body.

'Who?' Dean asked. Castiel pointed with his special spoon at the character portrayed by Kate Beckinsale and Dean acquiesced, 'Oh yeah. 'If we're meant to be, fate will bring us together again.' Moron. Not even the Piven can save that film and he's awesome.'

Castiel had no idea who the Piven was, but he nodded. The younger Winchester started to fold the paper and when he got up Dean unceremoniously dragged him into the bedroom. Quickly, Castiel turned down the volume. This was what he did nowadays: watch TV, read and listen to other people's whispered conversations about him.

'You have to teach him,' someone whispered and Castiel identified the voice as Dean's.

'Why can't you?'

'Because.'

'Good one.'

'Just...because I can't. Please, Sam. I'll take the garbage out for a month.'

'That's four times, you know that, right? You offered to take out the garbage four times.'

'Sam.'

'Ok, ok. For the record: you're being an idiot.'

'Duly noted. Can you take him to the hospital today too? Don't pretend you mind. I know you want to see the hot doctor.'

'Ok.'

When the conversation seemed to have ended, Castiel immediately turned up the sound and pretended to be riveted by what was happening on screen. The Winchesters came back into the living room and also pretended that nothing had been discussed. Castiel thoughtfully finished his breakfast and feigned surprise when Dean said he couldn't come with them to the hospital. Everything was fine with his ankle; the bone had healed nicely and a friendly nurse sawed off the cast, while Sam flirted with doctor Teller. Teach him what?

That question was answered when they got home again. The living room had been transformed. The couch was pushed against the wall, the TV set was on the kitchen table and the coffee table had been pushed into Sam's bedroom. The only living room chair was standing forlornly in the kitchen area and instead of the tattered carpet a thin, large mat covered the floor planks.

'How was your...?' Dean began, but he glanced down and saw that the cast had been removed. He pulled Castiel into a spontaneous hug, but let go swiftly, as if he had done something wrong. Sam rolled his eyes and Castiel wanted to do the same, but he managed to curb the desire.

'Sam and I thought it would be a good idea if you got some training,' Dean announced.

'Training?' he asked, suddenly suspicious.

'Look; you're fit. You're in excellent physical shape and can outrun me any day of the week, but you don't know how to defend yourself. That's not...' Dean began cheerily, but he faltered and looked at Sam. _Help me_, those eyes seemed to say.

'What Dean is saying is that none of what happened was your fault, but we noticed that you had no bloody knuckles; only defensive wounds. You didn't fight back,' Sam said and strangely, coming from Sam, it didn't sound like an accusation. This was wonderful, because Castiel had doled out his fair share of incriminations and blame already. Why had he not fought back? That was not to say he couldn't fight, however.

'I know how to fight,' he answered, defiantly. Dean stood there, frozen, while Sam was the one left to explain things to him.

'You've fought as an angel against demons, but you don't know how to fight like a man against other men. It's often not about who's stronger but about who's smarter. For example, you can use the other person's strength or weight against them. It's about balance and the distance between you and hitting them where it hurts the most. As well as being a mind game it's very physical.'

'It's like when Angel became human,' Dean offered and Castiel and Sam stared at him. Dean lowered his eyes to the floor and his cheeks flushed slightly as he brushed a piece of imaginary lint of his shirt.

'From TV? Angel? No?' Dean muttered and he was clearly embarrassed. It was cute, Castiel thought. Judging by Sam's face, it was also very amusing.

'Oh Dean,' Sam sighed, as if there was no hope left for Dean. Suddenly, Dean's head snapped up obstinately.

'Really? I watched Oprah and Dr. Sexy, M.D., but you're going to judge me for watching Angel? Dude fought demons. It was practically educational,' he said and it was becoming a bit too confusing for Castiel.

'Is it about an angel?' he asked. Sam just shook his head sadly, as if to say, _why are we talking about this?_

'No, about a vampire named Angel,' Dean clarified and all three men made a disgusted sound. Dean chuckled about Castiel's reaction.

'Yeah, stupid name. His girlfriend was called Buffy. So, there's that. Anyway, there was an episode where he got some demon blood on him and became human and then Buffy and he could be together. But he was too vulnerable and it was dangerous for them both, because she had to protect him, so in the end he had to go back in time to change it,' Dean explained. A sharp pain caused Castiel to stagger forward and both brothers stepped towards him with concern.

'I'm fine,' he quickly said, waving them away. It was not physical pain. It was worse. The parallels of this Angel person's situation to his own situation were disturbing. Castiel had become human to be with Dean. In the past he had been unable to be with Dean and had been forced to erase a happy moment of theirs to protect Dean. Remembering that hurt.

'In this scenario you're Buffy, I presume?' Sam asked Dean, but his brother ignored him.

'The point is that now that you're human you're vulnerable and no matter how much I want to protect you, I can't do that all the time. So, you're going to have to be able to stand up for yourself,' Dean said. Castiel had visions of the two of them, hot and sweaty, groping each other. A raw heat developed in his groin that was quickly extinguished when Dean said that Sam was going to train him. Sam was no Dean. Dean obviously did not want to touch him inappropriately. Since the attack their physical relationship had deteriorated. It was chaste and disappointing and made Castiel think that Dean had lost interest in him.

(***)

A week later. One week before Sam starts law school.

Dean and Castiel were clearing out the room for a third training session. As much as Castiel complained about them; they helped. He had never known how important it was where you put your feet and how losing your balance could actually give you an advantage if your opponent didn't expect it. First they would practise defence and attack moves and then Sam would pretend to attack him. In the beginning, Sam had asked him whether he was alright after every attack, but he had soon tired of doing that. He still went to great lengths to make sure that he didn't hurt Castiel, but he had stopped treating him as if he was made of glass.

Usually, Dean demonstrated some moves too or gave tips and Castiel would inaccurately adopt them on purpose. However, it was never Dean who physically corrected him with a strategically placed hand, as Castiel hoped, but always Sam, so Castiel had given up attempting to draw Dean into their training.

'I'm going out,' Sam said and they looked up from pushing the couch against the wall. The younger Winchester had on a really nice shirt and a black pair of trousers. His shoes were shiny and he looked a bit apprehensive as he always did before a date with Miranda. This was their fourth date and it seemed to be going well. Good, Castiel thought, Sam deserved to be as happy as Dean and him. Except Dean and he weren't so happy anymore. Something significant had changed since the attack.

'But we just got the room ready,' Dean protested, but Sam was not to be deterred. Despite the fact that he had seen them preparing the room and dressing for training, he had said nothing. Castiel looked at Dean's black wife beater and grey sweatpants and stared down at his own shirt and shorts. They were both on bare feet for better grip on the mat.

'Well, then you're going to have to teach him yourself, aren't you?' Sam said and winked at Castiel, before saying to Dean, 'Time to stop being an idiot.'

He gave them a little wave and then he left. Dean and Castiel stared at each other. The first one to break eye contact was Dean and he coughed and looked away nervously.

'Last time, he showed me how to block a punch, but I don't think I really grasped it yet,' Castiel said. This was his chance. Now Dean would have to touch him. Dean looked as if he'd rather die than come any closer, though.

'My arms like this?' Castiel asked and he deliberately held his arms too close to his body. There was an awful moment where Castiel thought that Dean might still blow him off and reschedule the session until a time when Sam would be there, but then Dean approached him.

'No, like this,' Dean said and he demonstrated the proper stance. Then he tugged at Castiel's arms, until they were in the right position. However, he stepped away as soon as that was done.

'And you rotate your shoulder, remember? That way you shield your upper body and you can hit right back,' Dean prompted. The air conditioning was running full blast, but tiny beads of sweat were already forming on Dean's arms. Castiel tried to focus.

'Pay attention to the distance. Too close and you're gonna get hit, too far and they'll see your punches coming from a mile away,' Dean instructed and they circled each other. The mat felt cool and firm under Castiel's feet. The distance between them was ideal for fighting purposes. They were just out of each other's reach, but for one little step forward. Their eyes never wavered from the other's face.

'That's good. You ready? I'm gonna try and hit you,' Dean warned and he threw out a lame punch. The attempt was so slow and half-assed that it caught Castiel off guard. His confusion caused him to fumble the block and Dean's knuckles grazed his chin. It was more of a caress than a hit, but Dean looked horrified.

'Sorry,' Dean mumbled and came closer to inspect the damage, but Castiel stepped away. Maybe he needed to get him mad, so Dean would want to take a swipe at him. That was how they'd ended up having sex before. Somehow, Castiel didn't think he could do it. It would be like manipulation and he didn't want to have to trick Dean into having sex. He wanted Dean to _want_ it too.

'I won't shatter if you touch me, Dean,' he sighed.

'I just thought it might remind you of, you know, the assault,' Dean admitted. Was he really that stupid? Was that what this was all about? He simply could not imagine Dean stomping on his ankle until it broke. He could not imagine Dean continuing to kick him if he begged him to stop or hitting him when his face was already caked in blood. If fighting Sam didn't remind him of the attack than how could fighting Dean ever do that?

'Why would it remind me of that? It's _you_. When you touch me I feel safe,' he said and he must have sounded puzzled. Slowly, Dean bridged the distance between them and cupped his face. They gently kissed. Castiel moved his hands across Dean's shoulders as Dean pressed kiss after kiss on his mouth. It felt so good after going for so long without this essential contact. When they broke apart, Dean looked happy and Castiel felt happier than he had done for quite some time.

'The thing you talked about? The sex? The intimacy and sharing and showing you love each other; I want that. I want you,' Castiel confessed and Dean hesitated visibly. If Dean refused him now, he didn't know what he would do. His hesitation was already proving almost too much to take. Castiel's eyes felt wetter than usual; it transported him back to that time Dean had been in the hospital. Dean had admitted that he was not all here. If Dean didn't love him, then Castiel wasn't all here either.

'Don't you want me? Don't you love me?' he asked as he stepped closer to Dean. They were toe to toe and Dean's look of absolute love nearly knocked him down. The former hunter stepped back and pulled the wife beater over his head. He came back and took off Castiel's shirt. Dean kissed him softly at first, but the kiss soon deepened. They shed Dean's sweatpants and Castiel's shorts on the way to the bedroom.

Dean laid him down on the bed and Castiel stared up at him with wonder. His touches were still tender, but he also detected lust in the other man's gaze. They kissed and kissed until they were out of breath. Castiel kept stroking Dean's shoulders and the slippery skin underneath his fingertips made him hard. Dean kissed his closed eyelids and his ears and his nose so lightly that Castiel almost couldn't feel it. The hot breath on his face made his entire body tingle. Dean's tongue darted out and licked his earlobe and Castiel arched his back. Dean smiled; Castiel could feel it against his neck.

The tip of Dean's tongue trailed a warm, wet line across his jaw and it was only the fact that Dean was straddling his hips that kept him from thrusting upward. Castiel's fingers burrowed into Dean's flesh. Even as he was busy trying not to cry out, Castiel felt the outline of a hand seared into the skin. His hand. Dean was his.

Gingerly, Dean started to lick around Castiel's lips. As if they had all the time in the world, he kissed his chin and placed small kisses all over his neck. Moving down, he covered Castiel with kisses as Castiel held on for dear life. He was afraid that his grip would bruise Dean's arms, but he needed to hold on to something. Drops of sweat were running down his face as he struggled for oxygen. His breath was coming faster and heavier than ever. When Dean came back up and lowered his lips onto Castiel's again, Castiel lost it. He flipped Dean over, so that he was on top.

Trying to match Dean's excruciating slowness; he looked into Dean's eyes. They were so beautiful. Dean was so beautiful. Dean touched the side of Castiel's face where a stubborn bruise had lingered for four weeks until finally disappearing. A lone tear made its way down his cheek and Castiel licked it away. Castiel gave himself over to desire and kissed Dean until his lips were sore. Meanwhile, his hands roamed over Dean's body, eliciting the most wonderful sounds from Dean. The former hunter groaned into Castiel's mouth and writhed underneath him.

'Cas...' Dean breathed, as he let out a trembling sigh. Castiel resumed his kissing until he felt Dean's hands on his hips. They peeled off his boxers and quickly Castiel removed Dean's boxers too. Everything was silent, except for their laboured breathing. Dean's naked body against his was the best sensation he'd ever experienced.

'Dean, I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you,' Castiel whispered and Dean gasped. Their bodies moved slick and smooth against each other as Dean pushed him off and turned his back on him. Castiel rested his head on Dean's shoulder and embraced him from behind. His tongue brushed Dean's shoulder and the hand mark. He sucked hard on the sensitive skin and used some teeth. Dean leaned back against his body, passionately moaning. It was then that Castiel realised than instead of taking away something by turning his back on him that Dean had offered him something.

They were both dripping with sweat and so aroused that it was easy. He adjusted his body slightly, Dean's seemed to welcome him and there they were. One. Castiel savoured this feeling of making Dean his. Dean shuddered in his arms, which made Castiel even harder. A profound longing ripped through his body as they were simply lying there. Excited, he began to move and encountered no resistance from Dean. The other man merely forced his body completely against his and matched his rhythm. They rocked lazily back and forth and Castiel reached around for Dean.

It was amazing and Dean kept making these noises that communicated his complete surrender. Castiel's tongue explored every muscle in Dean's neck while his hands remained glued to Dean's hips. The perpetual motion was soothing and their speed almost imperceptibly increased. It became more and more difficult to endure their slow pace as Dean continued to shiver in his grasp. Castiel's thrusts grew deeper and wilder as Dean's moans grew louder. To be able to inspire such intense enjoyment in Dean spurred Castiel on even more and before long he felt an overwhelming pleasure ripple through his shaking body. The feeling gradually faded away as he kept moving and Dean, mysteriously quiet suddenly, quivered one last time.

Castiel waited until Dean moved away and faced him again. Their chests were still moving rapidly, trying to keep up with the accelerated oxygen intake. Dean kissed him thoroughly and played with his hair. Skilfully, he caressed Castiel's temples with his fingertips and placed his collarbones within kissing distance of Castiel's hungry lips. A new yearning was already developing in Castiel.

'Perhaps you'd better train with Sam. Less likely to prematurely end in sex,' Dean whispered into his ear and Castiel laughed. It was a fantastic feeling, but it didn't come close to having a second first time with the man you loved. Or an ordinary second or third time, he guessed. Though, with Dean, the sex could hardly be called ordinary.


	9. The other side

**Chapter 9: The other side**

Dean's POV

Dean was coming out of the shower when he heard Cas and Sam talking. He paused and didn't walk into the kitchen just yet. Castiel was forever listening in when Sam and he were talking, so now he was going to do that same.

'...really loves you, you know,' Sam said. The door was ajar and Dean could make out Sam and Cas folding the laundry. Could they get any more domestic and pedestrian? It was a far cry from hunting demons and stopping or starting the apocalypse. He hadn't expected them to someday have a different life than that. Briefly, he wondered whether Sam would ever tell Miranda about their unusual past.

By the way: score. Folding the laundry was a chick chore and it was Dean's job to take out the trash. So, if they were keeping the score as to who was the girl in their relationship; it was Castiel. It was juvenile, Dean knew it was, but still he was quietly making a list. After all, one of these days the good old US of A was going to catch up to the present and he was going to marry Cas.

And they would both be grooms, of course, but secretly Dean felt that one of them needed to be the bride. The groom was just an appendage. It was the bride's special day. The bride was the centre of attention. So, Dean was just making sure that whenever that day came and bouquets needed to be tossed and flower arrangements needed to be discussed; he could whip out the list. 'Your job,' he'd say, presenting the evidence, and Castiel would be stuck with all the stuff that Dean had absolutely no interest in.

He had no idea why he was imagining it like that, with the bride as the one who is singled out. Singled out by _whom_? It would most likely be a Vegas wedding, with Dean and Bobby as their witnesses. It wasn't as if it would be some big family wedding with aunts and uncles and friends from a fucking book club coming flying in from all over the country for a wedding that had been in preparation for more than a year. The thought of a wedding like that kind of made Dean want to hurl.

'Yes. He has not told me, but...' Cas started, but Sam interrupted him. Dean's little brother had an incredulous expression on his face.

'Wait, he hasn't said it?' Sam asked and he sounded almost angry. Cas ignored Sam's exaggerated reaction and calmly finished folding.

'He doesn't need to; I _know_,' he serenely said. It pretty much made Dean want to go into the kitchen, bend him over the table and fuck him. That would probably disturb Sam a little bit, so he didn't. Dean was planning to tell Sam that they'd already had sex on the table and against the counter and on the couch and in the shower, even against the door, but he was waiting until Sam moved out. Just one more day and meanwhile Dean kept grinning whenever Sam prepared a sandwich on the counter. It would only make the revelation better.

However, not being able to say 'I love you' was getting to be a problem. Dean was pretty sure that during the wedding he'd have to say it. You couldn't just mumble something or change the subject or whatever at that moment. Dean wanted to say it and he felt that Castiel deserved to hear it. So, while it might not be important to Castiel that he hadn't said it yet: it was important to Dean.

(***)

The next day, when Dean arrived at work, he was already tired. Castiel and he had helped Sam move into an apartment closer to the law school. Sam's roommate looked like a complete bore. Studying in peace would be no trouble at all with that dweeb around. His brother would not be woken up by loud sex or loud music or loud anything. Hell, even the guy's voice had been mousy. Peter was like the poster boy for a nerd.

Peter's small, round face had turned bright red when Dean had finally been able to tell Sam on which surfaces in the other apartment they'd had sex. Sam had glared at him for revealing this information in front of his roommate and possibly also for defiling the apartment that was now Castiel's and Dean's apartment.

At the bar, Danny, the owner, was waiting for him and Dean left Castiel at the counter to go talk to the owner in the back.

'Have a seat,' Danny said. Dean took the proffered chair and sat down uneasily. Danny lowered himself into a chair too. It was a strange sight to behold. Danny was big; big in the Sam sense of the word and big in the fat sense of the word. The chairs were sturdier than they looked, but still Dean was always anxious lest the legs snapped like matches if Danny sat down. They were going to have a serious talk by the looks of it. Fingers crossed that he was not getting fired. It had been going so well.

'How would you feel about becoming a fulltime bartender?' Danny asked.

'Look, the other guy I've got is a bit of a deadbeat. You're the best bartender I've had so far. You look like you know what you're doing. You're friendly, but not overly so. I like you. Plus, you bring in women and women bring in men, so you're good for business,' Danny added. Dean couldn't hide a smug smile of satisfaction at the thought that he brought in women. That was always nice to hear, despite him pretty much permanently playing for the other team now. However, bartending was only supposed to have been a temporary job. He had needed to make some money and have a place to teach Castiel how to play pool.

On the other hand, he still had no clue what else he would want to do with his life and he liked the job, so why the hell not?

'Sure,' he said and shook Danny's hand. They got up; Danny's chair moaning under the abuse it had been forced to suffer. Danny's thick thumb pointed at the door to the bar. Dean could see Castiel hanging back in his barstool. It was balancing on two legs. Idiot is going to fall and break his neck one of these days, Dean thought.

'Can your friend pour drinks?'

'What?' Dean said, perplexed, as they entered the bar. He shot a warning glance at Castiel and with a guilty look on his face Castiel put the stool down properly.

'The one over there, who is burning a hole in my skull with his blue eyes. I've got more business than I can handle. He's always hanging around here. He might as well get paid to do something,' Danny elaborated and Dean beckoned Castiel over. Hesitating, Castiel approached the bar.

'What's in a martini?' Danny asked.

'Gin, vermouth and an olive or a lemon twist,' Castiel answered. When Danny nodded, Castiel glanced at Dean.

'Make me one,' Danny said and Castiel went behind the bar. Until he was there, his movements were unsure, but then suddenly he started to... dance. Dean wanted to look away, but it was like he couldn't avert his eyes, so he looked on, horrified. Castiel was on his toes, twirling around, throwing bottles and glasses in the air. He poured that martini alright; Dean just would have liked it much better if it had not been accompanied by that embarrassing dance routine.

It was painful to watch. Castiel couldn't even hold a bottle properly. Bottles were held upside down with a twisted wrist flick. Dean didn't want to see how Danny was reacting to this, but finally he glanced at the bar owner.

Beside him, Danny was shaking with silent laughter. The barstool on which he was sitting was groaning and his chins were wobbling. Tears were streaming down his cheeks and when Castiel offered him the martini his hands were shaking too much to take it, so Castiel put it down on the bar. After wiping away his tears and visibly composing himself, Danny took a sip.

'What's your name?'

'Castiel Nicholson,' Castiel answered. Dean was amazed at how fast he had memorised the new name they'd gotten him. It had been a hassle to place the name in the system, but picking the name had been even trickier. Eventually, Dean had recited a list of last names of his favourite actors and this was the result.

'Well, Castiel, if you can do that without the theatrics, you're hired,' Danny said. Castiel beamed at him and Danny left them at the bar. Occasionally, he still giggled when he glanced at Castiel.

'I should never have let you watch Cocktail,' Dean whispered, but nothing he did could erase the smile from Cas' face. The rest of the night they tended the bar together. A couple of times Castiel tried to engage Dean in flair bartending, but Dean shot those attempts done. No matter how much the vision of Castiel imitating Tom Cruise amused him now that he thought about it; _that_ was not going to happen.

(***)

It wasn't even a day after Sam had moved into his own apartment and he was already standing on Dean's doorstep again.

'Peter is driving me crazy,' he said, by way of a greeting. Sam came inside and grabbed two beers from the fridge, as if he still lived there. Dean was feeling a bit irritated, but at the same time he liked the surprise visit. After all, Sam and he were not used to being away from each other, unless one of them was in hell or in a devil's cage or something like that. Voluntary extended breaks from each other; they hadn't had those in a long time.

'He wants to hang out with me, but mostly with you,' Sam continued as he sat down at the kitchen table. His brother's eyes were surveying the room, looking like he was seeing it for the first time. Sam squinted, as if he was receiving some unpleasant visuals and Dean tapped the table and grinned. Yep, right here too, he wanted to say, but Sam was already nearly choking on his beer, so Dean was merciful.

'Why would he want to hang out with me?' he asked.

'He thinks you're cool,' Sam spit out. Dean grinned again.

'Based on a thirty second conversation I had with you, he has decided that you're cool. Now he's badgering me for details about you. I think he might be a closet case,' Sam explained. He ran his hand through his too long hair and sighed.

'I _am_ roguishly handsome,' Dean offered by way of explanation. A knock on the door disturbed them before Sam could roll his eyes some more. It was a blender that Castiel had ordered. Annoyed, Dean thanked the delivery man and hauled it inside. He needed to stop Cas from watching the home shopping channel. 'But it's only a temporary offer! It's fifty percent off!' The former angel still did not fully understand the concept of lying.

After all the times he'd seen Dean do it and all the times Cas himself had kept things from the Winchesters; he still believed that lying was the exception, while it was really more the rule.

'You're still thinking about the thing with the door?' Sam asked, quietly, after Dean had put the package away. The older Winchester glanced at the door.

'Yes, Sam, it's good to have our own door,' Dean answered, wearily. He was not looking forward to being drawn into that argument again.

'No, I mean, it's bothering you, right? The settled aspect of it. The closest thing you've ever had to a home is the Impala. And now you've got it all: steady home, steady job, steady boyfriend. You lack experience in the area,' Sam said. Dean had trouble seeing how this related to the door, except that it was a steady door.

'Except with Lisa and Ben, but other than that; yeah, you're right,' Dean confirmed. The topic was making him a little anxious, but he was curious to see where Sam was going with this.

'Dean, it's ok to be scared.'

Sam tried to put his hand on Dean's arm, but Dean stood up quickly to grab new beers. With his head hidden behind the door of the fridge, he scoffed.

'Pff, scared. I'm not scared. Scared about what?'

Sam waited until Dean was seated again and took the second beer Dean offered him, despite the fact that he had not yet finished his first. He made eye contact in that obnoxious way of his that made it impossible for Dean to look away.

'Scared of answering the door and finding Castiel beaten up. Scared of having to take a call in the middle of the night and someone telling you Castiel is hurt or dead. It's the downside to Cas becoming human,' Sam summed up. That had happened, Dean thought, and it could happen again. Obviously, that moment was always going to come someday, because everyone dies. That didn't make it easier to accept, however.

'What then?' Dean asked. His voice was loud.

'I don't know,' Sam admitted.

'I don't know either,' Dean agreed, his voice a bit quieter.

'After Jess...' Sam began, but he faltered briefly before continuing, 'I guess, you just go on. And maybe, probably, it'll never happen with Cas, not until you're 80 or so. You'll live long and happy lives, so you can't worry about it. You have to enjoy what you've got while you've got it.'

'Yes, it _probably_ won't happen. Thanks, Sam,' Dean sarcastically replied. Why thank you for jinxing it, Sam, Dean wanted to say. His brother was a major drama queen, so of course he wouldn't fail to mention vague, but impending doom. Sam was also right; Dean just didn't want to admit it.

'Is that why you haven't said it?' Sam asked. He spun the empty bottle around in his hands, but his eyes stayed fixed on Dean.

'Said what?' Dean responded, though he knew exactly what Sam meant.

'That you love him. I mean, he's happy, Dean, being with you. But if it was me, I'd want to hear it. You'll only regret it if that moment does come and you haven't said it.'

Ding, ding, ding, give that man a prize! Dean didn't respond. He stared at the table. He imagined Castiel with that loving look on his face, while he undressed Dean. The tenderness always got to Dean. It turned him on. At this exact same spot where he was not talking to Sammy right now, Dean had slowly taken Castiel. As he recounted sex fantasies, Dean could feel Sam's impatience growing with every sip his brother took.

'What do you want to do? Summon Atropos, if that's even possible, and ask her to look into her book and tell you when it's going to end?' Sam asked harshly, finally reaching the last of his vast reserve of patience.

'No,' Dean said in a tone that indicated that he _did_ want to do that. That was stupid. He didn't really want to know when someday was.

'Well, then stop whining and tell him!' Sam snapped. He drained his second beer and slammed it down on the table. In a surprisingly fluid motion, considering his long limbs, he got to his feet. With a disapproving look, he stared down at Dean.

'Please, come over to my place and spout this crap. I guarantee you, Peter's crush will die a very quick death,' Sam said as he headed for the door. Dean's brother shook his head. It was the patented 'Dean, you're hopeless' headshake. Then he smiled encouragingly and closed the door behind him.

It was high time that Dean said it. It was time that he started to believe what Cas had said when they first met. Dean didn't believe him then, but time had proven Castiel right. _Good things do happen, Dean._

(***)

'We need to talk,' Dean said when Castiel came home from his afternoon run. Sometimes Dean still accompanied him and it was a lot easier to keep up with Castiel nowadays, but he didn't think he'd ever be as into it as Cas was. Cas practically flew when he was running and he enjoyed the hell out of it. Dean had only evolved into grudgingly not hating it as much as he once did.

'Are you breaking up with me?' Castiel panted. A panicked look appeared on his face replacing the bliss from physical exercise. When Cas looked like that, Dean thought about other ways of working up a sweat, so he had to struggle to focus on the ridiculous question.

'What? No. Why would you think that?' he asked. Castiel downed almost an entire bottle of water, before very seriously answering.

''Ten breakup warning signs.' Sign number ten: your boyfriend says that you two need to talk,' he started and it looked like he was going to rattle of some more signs.

'Where do you get this crap?' Dean interrupted him.

'The Cosmopolitans at the barber. Also, in 'Is your boyfriend losing interest?' it said that if he stopped noticing changes in your appearance he was losing interest,' Castiel said, still slightly panting. His face was flushed and sweat trickled out of his hair and into his eyes. He kept wiping it away with his sleeve. Hot, Dean thought; so hot.

'So?'

'So, I got my hair cut and you didn't notice,' Castiel said and Dean didn't know why he had been keeping the score. There was nothing to be worried about: Cas was clearly going to be the bride. Dean pushed him into a chair and resisted the urge to sit down in his lap. That would make him the girl.

'Calm down. No one is breaking up with anyone. You got a new haircut?' he asked and he walked around Castiel. Honestly, he could not see the difference and he admitted, 'I don't see it.'

'I told him to keep it kind of the same,' Castiel confessed sheepishly. Laughing, Dean thoroughly mussed his hair.

'It's sexy. _You_ are sexy. You up for a little something something?' Dean asked. He winked suggestively and Castiel took off his sweaty shirt.

'I want a lot of something something,' Castiel answered and he kissed Dean. Their tongues fought for dominance for a while and this was one game Dean didn't mind losing. Castiel roughly pushed him up against the refrigerator. His hands slipped into Dean's trousers, but then he paused.

'What did you want to talk about?'

'I'll tell you afterwards,' Dean breathed, as Castiel's fingers continued their delicious, downward journey. First showing, then telling. Dean was ready.


	10. Be be your love

**Chapter ****10: Be be your love**

Castiel's POV

'Cas... Ah, fuck. _Yes_,' Dean breathed and panting, they disentangled. Dean kissed Castiel in that sloppy way he usually adopted after sex and which Castiel loved. Then again, there was very little about Dean that he didn't love. Comfortably close to each other, they tried to catch their breath. This was one of those moments that Castiel adored. It was physical, but it was also emotionally intimate. Dean's face would be completely unguarded and it would shine with the sort of devotion that Castiel only wished Dean could express in words.

It clearly bothered Dean that he hadn't said those three words yet, even though Castiel did everything he could to impress upon Dean that he didn't mind. It wasn't as if he didn't know Dean loved him. The way Dean looked at him, the way Dean touched him; it was evident in everything Dean did. Sometimes when he woke up in the morning, he would find Dean staring at him. The former hunter would turn away embarrassed and pretend he hadn't been caught.

There would be a look in his eyes that Castiel had no difficulty recognising. It was a look that indicated Dean's reluctance to believe his luck. Something inside of Dean remained forever pessimistic. It was ready to have the world come crashing down on him. Apocalypse, devil; Dean was permanently prepared for them to all resurface again.

Dean sighed and Castiel turned towards him. He stroked his lover's collarbones. Castiel wondered whether it was a Winchester gene. Sam's collarbones were also nice to look at; not that Castiel would ever admit this to Dean. However, nothing compared to Dean's. The soft silky skin stretched over them, the tautness when Dean was nervous like he was now.

'Look, this is not... I'm not good at this sort of thing. It's going to come out all stupid and weird,' Dean apologised, beforehand. Castiel simply kissed his collarbone and waited. It was the least he could do.

'I've been a hunter almost my entire life and what that means is that you can't afford to get attached to people. So, I had my dad and Sam and that was about it. There were a few women whom I could have loved, but the lifestyle usually fucked that up. With men, I don't know why, but it was always just sex. Until you,' Dean said and he looked at Castiel. Castiel nodded gently and they lay silently for a moment with their fingertips touching.

'I'm telling this in the wrong order. When I lived with Lisa and Ben; that was nice, but something was always missing. She'd ask me whether I missed the hunting, whether I thought about it. And I didn't. Not really. I thought about Sam being in Lucifer's cage and I thought about you. Sometimes she would ask whether I thought about you, but I'd lie and say you weren't on my mind. Maybe she kind of knew,' Dean mumbled and he smiled absentmindedly. _That was nice_; it was strange how something as nondescript and noncommittal as that could hurt Castiel a little bit, even knowing that Dean had been thinking about him.

'With you it was never just friendship. With you it can never be just sex. It never has been. From the start it was something more. When you declared yourself God...' Dean added, but the sudden mention of that moment shocked Castiel and Dean stopped. He looked at Castiel, worried.

'You keep bringing up the God thing and I understand that. I hurt you,' Castiel assured him, but Dean didn't seem happy by being granted permission to continue discussing it.

'No. Well, yes, obviously you did; that's why I asked you to stay. I didn't want to lose you then and I don't want to lose you now. Do you remember what I told you about Atropos?' Dean asked. Was there ever going to come a right time to tell Dean about what Atropos had really meant and what Castiel had been forced to do? Castiel wasn't sure. Those five years after that, knowing what he did, had been awful and hurting Dean again was the last thing Castiel wanted to do. Sensing Castiel's distress, Dean kissed him.

'She visited you and threatened you,' Castiel murmured into Dean's mouth. The soft brush of Dean's teeth against his bottom lip was tantalizing and Castiel moaned. Smiling, Dean pulled back.

'Yes. I mean, it was more like stating the obvious, because we're all gonna go someday. But since you decided to become human I've wondered about your someday,' Dean confessed and he seemed almost ashamed to do so. He kissed Castiel again, a little rougher this time.

'It's... That's one of the things I think about when I think about the God thing: losing you. I don't want to. So, I've been doing stupid shit, like not having sex with you and not saying how I feel about you, because I feel like if I do it's gonna hurt that much more if I do lose you,' Dean continued. Frowning, he stared down at Castiel and pointed at the hand mark on his upper arm. Remembering their earlier conversation, Castiel caressed the hand seared into Dean's flesh.

'But it's doesn't make any difference really, whether I say it or not, because I'm already yours,' Dean said and the admission appeared to startle him. Castiel ignored Dean's confusion and pushed Dean back onto his pillow. He kissed those lips he loved so much and sucked at Dean's shoulder.

'And it's strange and scary, because I didn't think I wanted this. I thought I'd have Sam and that would be it. But now I go to sleep next to you and I wake up next to you and that makes me feel... I can't describe it. You make me feel good. You make me feel like I could be an FBI agent,' Dean sounded puzzled and struggled to hold on his composure while Castiel flicked his tongue against Dean's marked shoulder.

'Dean...' Castiel said. _Dean, there's no reason you couldn't be an FBI agent, or professor, or lawyer, or architect, or whatever you want to be. I have faith in you. I always have._ However, Castiel said none of those things, because Dean knew; the same as Castiel knew that Dean loved him.

'Even with the God thing, which was possibly the worst moment of my life, but it's a stiff competition, so... In that moment when you said all those things and ignored what I was saying, I knew it wasn't really you. Because after I told you I didn't want to lose you, there was no way you would have responded the way you did. In that moment, I realised I had feelings for you,' Dean told him and Castiel halted mid-lick. Of all the moments to fall in love, Dean had picked that one? Castiel propped himself up on his elbows and leaned on Dean's chest. They stared at each other.

'So, you make me feel good about myself and this love that you have for me is amazing, but even without that I would feel the same. At the lowest point in our time together when you threatened to destroy me and you claimed to feel absolutely nothing for me, I felt this. I wanted you.'

Rapidly blinking, Castiel rolled away from Dean. Concerned, Dean grabbed his wrist and Castiel squeezed his eyes shut.

'How could you?' Castiel whispered.

'It's the way we work. That cruel response, when you said I wasn't your family, that's when I knew. It wasn't you saying those things, because you loved me. We can be cruel to each other, but that was too much.' Dean punctuated every word with a kiss. On Castiel's fingertips, on his palm, around his wrist and up his arm to his neck.

'Look at me,' Dean demanded and Castiel opened his eyes, 'I want this. I want to stay with you for the rest of my life. I want you so much that sometimes I can't breathe. I look at you and I have to remind myself that this is real. That you're mine. I spent so long believing that I couldn't have anything that I started to believe that I didn't want anything, but I want you. If I could only have one thing it'd be you. Screw Sam!'

Dean laughed and licked his way from Castiel's neck to Castiel's lips and into Castiel's mouth. Castiel gripped the sides of Dean's face and responded hungrily. Suddenly, Dean loosened Castiel's hands and pinned them to the mattress. Fascinated, Castiel stared up at him. Dean rubbed his cheek against Castiel's and their noses collided. There was something very comforting about the rough contact; almost animalistic. Dean finished with a gentle bite and tug on Castiel's lips and took a deep breath.

'I love you, Cas. I can't remember a time when I didn't love you and I can't imagine there will come a time when I won't love you. Now, let's have some more sex,' Dean said and the gentle tone of his voice contradicted the crude suggestion. Castiel arched upward and managed to kiss him, before being pushed down again. Unbidden a taste fantasy came to him. Taking a mouthful of pie and kissing Dean. Dean loved him and Dean loved pie.

'I love you too. I love you like I loved you the day we met,' Castiel replied and Dean growled.

'Why do you always have to do that? You don't have to try and outdo me,' Dean protested, sounding a bit annoyed, 'That's not even true. You didn't love me when we first met.'

'No? There's no such thing as retroactive love? You just said you didn't remember a time when you didn't love me, which is also clearly false,' Castiel objected and Dean leaned down and bit his lip a little harder.

'Forget what I said; those vows will go well with your wedding dress,' Dean growled and buried his face in Castiel's neck. Feebly, Castiel fought to free himself from Dean's grasp, but he only ended up tired and panting.

'Liar,' he whispered, defeated and Dean released his arms. Immediately, Castiel launched himself forward and they both fell off the bed. Luckily, the carpet was thick and soft. He trapped Dean underneath his body. Dean was unimpressed. He writhed and squirmed to please Castiel, but they both knew that Dean could escape any time he wanted to. Fortunately, he didn't want to.

'Come on,' Dean taunted, but Castiel listened for sounds in the apartment. He was still adjusting to Sam's absence. It meant that they could have sex wherever and whenever they wanted without having to worry about Sam walking in on them. A couple of times in the living room in the week before Sam had moved out had already been a little too close for comfort, but Dean kept on insisting on the couch and the counter and it was impossible to refuse him anything.

'I'm so glad Sam doesn't live here anymore. The sex noises would surely disturb him,' Castiel confided and Dean heaved an irritated sigh.

'How many times have I told you not to bring up Sam during foreplay? Now you've ruined it.' Dean chided Castiel.

'Really?' Castiel asked, disappointed.

'No,' Dean admitted and he flipped Castiel onto his back before starting to kiss him. Castiel started to giggle, which in the beginning had freaked out Dean. Giggling angels; it was all so very wrong, but now he seemed to like it. Correction: love it. Like he loved Castiel; without abandon. Maybe surrendering completely to that feeling and letting someone in wasn't such a bad thing after all. Provided it was the right person. Castiel had hoped that Dean would realise this and now he had. Finally.


	11. Sunday afternoon

**Chapter 11: Sunday afternoon**

Castiel's POV

2013-2017

2013

When everyone had gone to sleep, – and with everyone Castiel meant Dean – Castiel was wide awake. The apartment was silent. The world was silent. Castiel couldn't even hear the noises from outside. No cars, no rain. There was nothing. Only the sound of Dean's deep and calm breathing beside him. Castiel kissed Dean's collarbone and Dean stirred in his sleep. He mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like 'no angel' and turned away from Castiel.

There was something that Castiel had been waiting for. He had been expecting it to happen much sooner, but it still hadn't. The feeling of wonder when he looked at Dean; he had thought it would fade. Or at least mellow. However, it was still there. A sharp and bright sort of love. It felt very new, barely unwrapped, while he had felt it for over five years now.

The way Dean's vessel, body, made him feel. A kind of ache. Even now, lying so close to him, after they'd had made love, there was a void that only Dean could fill. He was so beautiful. Dean didn't like that word: beautiful. He preferred handsome; ruggedly or devilishly, but Castiel liked beautiful. Art was beautiful, exceptional music was beautiful, so Dean was beautiful too.

He kissed the little nubs of Dean's spine. Dean tasted nice. Of salty sweat and still that elusive piny scent. Castiel wasn't even sure if he had ever tasted pine, but Dean tasted like it. And like Castiel. That made Castiel happy. Dean tasted a little of him.

They had fun at the bar. Every now and then Castiel would imitate _Cocktail_ and once, Dean had even joined him. It had quite possibly been the most fun Castiel had ever had while clothed. Doing things with Dean was always fun.

Yet, sometimes Castiel had nightmares. His subconscious must be crazy, because he had nothing to work through. Well, nothing... Perhaps one thing. So, the nightmares were alright, because whenever Castiel woke up from them, Dean was there. Always right there. It didn't matter that Castiel's dreams were sometimes frightening. In a way, it was only fair. A reasonable price to pay in exchange for being happy every waking moment.

Rubbing his cheek against Dean's shoulder, Castiel spooned the other man. It was a strange word for a very enjoyable position. Dean's body heat warmed him like a little furnace and he drifted off, satisfied.

(***)

She stared at him. Her eyes icy behind her glasses.

'Oh, and the thing with the collarbones? Get over it.'

'No,' Castiel mumbled forcefully and repeated, 'No! I don't want to.'

'Cas? Cas? You're having a nightmare,' Dean's soothing voice assured him. He opened his eyes and stared into Dean's eyes. He still hadn't determined their colour. Brown or green. Not that he could distinguish colours in the dark. Dean's hands were warm on his shoulders, but Castiel felt cold. He settled back onto the pillow, snug against Dean.

'You want to talk about it?' Dean asked. No, he didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to think about it and he didn't want to dream about it.

'Five years ago...' he began, but he faltered. Was this a good idea? His knuckles grazed Dean's chest and Dean responded by kissing his jaw. The soft lips and a little flick of tongue made Castiel close his eyes.

'Five years ago, Atropos threatened you. And she didn't say 'someday;' she said she would accidentally kill you,' Castiel confessed. Slowly, he opened his eyes and allowed them to adjust to the darkness.

'That's not...' Dean protested, but he stopped himself. Confused, Dean looked at him.

'That's what she told _me_,' Castiel said and understanding dawned in Dean's eyes. They both sat up straight. Dean's leg brushed against Castiel's foot. Castiel proceeded to tell Dean everything.

The conversation they had about what they would be if they could be anything, their conversation about Dean's father during which Castiel had purposely enraged Dean. Their subsequent fight and Dean kissing him. The actual first time they had sex and how Dean had reacted afterwards. How Castiel had said he had loved Dean and how Dean had later responded in kind. Atropos' interruption and how she had condemned what they had done, because it wasn't part of the master plan. Their last few minutes together before Castiel had been forced to turn back time and pretend it, _they_, had never happened.

'How could you?' Dean asked. He didn't sound angry, only disappointed, but Castiel knew that Dean was angry. And the question was twofold. How could he have erased that moment? And, because everything they ever did came back to those two moments; how could he have declared himself God after that?

'I didn't want to, but I couldn't let her hurt you,' Castiel explained. He attempted to touch Dean's collarbones, but Dean slapped his hand away. There was nothing playful about the gesture. It was purely preventive. Dean absolutely didn't want Castiel to touch him. The former hunter got out of bed and put on his jeans that were on a pile on the floor. Castiel was too upset to even take note of why Dean was dressing. The alarm clock indicated it was a little past four a.m.

'Five years. Five years and you didn't say anything,' Dean shouted and after he had pulled on his sweater, 'All that time you knew I loved you and you didn't do anything.'

Castiel swallowed and tears appeared in his eyes. How could he make Dean understand? Those five years had been mental torture, but he couldn't risk doing anything that might endanger Dean. Dean rummaged in the closet and brought out his running shoes. He put those on too.

'I can't look at you. Not right now,' he said and then he left the room. Castiel heard the front door of the apartment slam shut. His heart pounded in his chest as he waited for as long as he could bear. Then he quickly dressed. A night run wasn't safe. Not even after all the fight training they had done. Gently, he closed the door behind him. He knew where Dean was going.

Meet me by the water, Dean would say when they went jogging and they'd meet by an abandoned house by Vermillion River. Dean usually took a short route, so he could wait on the river bank for a while and Castiel would take a long and difficult path and join Dean at the water almost a quarter of an hour later. That's where Dean would go. He liked the quiet and the solitude. It was a perfect spot for contemplation.

It was dark, especially so by the river. There was a full moon, but the clouds obscured it and absorbed its light. A couple of times, Castiel stumbled, but he made it to the abandoned house in one piece. There was a dark shadow on the grassy bank.

'Dean?' Castiel whispered. The shadow moved.

'I'm here,' it grudgingly admitted. Castiel approached and lay down beside Dean. The ground was cold and hard. The chill immediately penetrated his bones and made him shiver. The water sloshed against the sand. Castiel could imagine falling asleep to the soft swirling sounds the river made. Right now, however the temperature was too low for anything except shivering.

'Was it hard?' Dean asked. His hand enclosed Castiel's and he squeezed a little too hard. Clearly, he was still angry.

'What do you think? Five years. Of course, it was hard. It wouldn't have been love if it wasn't hard,' Castiel answered. Dean's grip relaxed.

'I'm sorry,' Dean said. The clouds slowly revealed the white moon and its weak light illuminated them.

'I'm sorry too,' Castiel admitted. The sweat from his run was starting to cool and he shivered again. Dean got up and pulled him to his feet.

'This was our first fight as a couple. Do you know what that means?' Dean asked. There was a mischievous grin on his face and he winked. The light from the moon made Dean's eyes appear almost blue.

'That I should have yelled too?' Castiel guessed. Their first fight. It hadn't been quite as bad as the fights they had had before they became a couple, because then Castiel had always been afraid that Dean wouldn't want to be his friend anymore. Now, while the stakes should be higher; Dean could say he didn't want to be his lover anymore, it had been better. Perhaps because Castiel knew that Dean wouldn't leave him.

'Nope. Make up sex,' Dean suggested and he started to run. His pace was much quicker than it was whenever they jogged together. In fact, Castiel couldn't remember a time when he'd seen Dean run this fast and Castiel struggled to keep up.

2014

'Did you ask Bobby?' Sam anxiously asked. They were sitting at the kitchen table in Castiel and Dean's apartment and Sam was extremely fidgety. Castiel poured him some chamomile tea. It was rumoured to be relaxing and Sam could use some relaxing. Honestly, Sam could probably do with a massage, but Castiel wouldn't offer him one. Once upon a time he had done that and Dean had become very irritated. Apparently, Castiel wasn't supposed to massage anyone but Dean.

'He thinks you're crazy, but he's got one. You sure about this?' Dean said again. He had already asked Sam whether he wanted to do this multiple times.

'No,' Sam admitted. He sighed heavily. Pinned to the fridge with a magnet, the wedding invitation was staring at them.

_Mr. And Mrs. William Peter Teller  
>request the honor of your presence<br>at the marriage of their daughter  
>Miranda Cynthia<br>and  
>Sam Winchester.<em>

The wedding was still a month away. However, that wasn't what Sam was unsure about.

Bobby had captured a demon and Sam was taking Miranda to see it. He wanted to tell her about his past and how he'd come to be the man he was today and he thought he might need proof that he wasn't certifiably insane. Castiel thought that, while it would not be easy, it was a sensible choice. Nothing significant had happened on the demon front for almost two years now, but they were still out there. It was smart to prepare Miranda.

Dean, on the other hand, strenuously objected. He thought their past might scare Miranda away. All three of them had grown to like her immensely. She was tough, but nice. Sam had confessed to Castiel that she sometimes reminded him of Jessica.

'When are you two getting married anyway?' Sam asked. Castiel looked at Dean, who blushed. Dean and he had talked about it briefly, but decided they didn't much care for a wedding. They already knew they were going to stay together for the rest of their lives, so they didn't really see the point. Plus, same sex marriage was still banned in the majority of the states. Fuck them, Dean had said. Dean refused to accept marriage as some sort of special gift while it was a right that they should have. Maybe someday, they had decided; when it was legal in all the states.

Still, Castiel sometimes thought about it. Officially sealing their love in front of everyone they cared about. He had even selected a poem that he would read at the occasion. Their apartment was becoming too small for all of their shared collections. Music (mostly Dean's) and literature (mostly Castiel's) and their really shared movie collection. Castiel loved reading. It was like escaping into another world. A bit like dreaming, except you were able to come back to reality whenever you wanted and were able to choose the world you disappeared into.

'I have a poem I would read if we did, but we're not going to,' Castiel confessed. Dean's blush deepened, but he also seemed intrigued. Sam dropped another sugar cube into his tea and loudly slurped.

'You do?' Dean softly asked.

'I'd like to hear it,' Sam said. Dean nodded and his hand slipped underneath Castiel's shirt. Fingers lightly darted across his back. Castiel shivered and, innocently, Dean removed his hand. His brother hadn't noticed anything. Tingling with pleasure, Castiel recited the poem. He knew it by heart.

_I like my body when it is with your_

_body. It is so quite a new thing._

_Muscles better and nerves more._

_I like your body. I like what it does,_

_I like its hows. I like to feel the spine_

_of your body and its bones, and the trembling_

_-firm-smooth ness and which I will_

_again and again and again_

_kiss, I like kissing this and that of you,_

_I like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz_

_of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes_

_over parting flesh . . . . And eyes big Love-crumbs,_

_and possibly I like the thrill_

_of under me you quite so new_

'You would read that in front of other people? Cas, always with the inappropriate and smutty; that's why I love you,' Dean smiled. Sam was trying very hard not to look embarrassed and wasn't entirely succeeding.

'I've got one too,' Dean suddenly said and before Sam or Castiel could express their surprise he had gone into the bedroom. 'Dean? A poem?' Sam mouthed at Castiel and Dean came out with a crumpled piece of paper. He unfolded it and started to read in a steady voice, which Castiel thought was incredibly sexy.

_I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart)_

_I am never without it (anywhere I go you go_

_and whatever is done by only me is your doing)_

_I fear_

_no fate (for you are my fate) I want_

_no world (for you are my world)_

_Here is the deepest secret nobody knows_

_(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud_

_and the sky of the sky of a tree called life)_

_and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart_

_I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)_

'Wow, that was... heavily edited,' Sam remarked with a grin. He is probably relieved that it is not about sex like mine was, Castiel thought. Castiel knew the poem. It was from the same poet and volume from which he had chosen his poem. Dean carrying Castiel's heart with him; Castiel liked that. And Dean didn't fear fate anymore. Not after what Castiel had told him about Atropos and their encounter.

'Shut up, Sam,' they said in unison.

2015

'I've been thinking about maybe following some courses. Danny mentioned he might leave the bar to me, because he doesn't have kids, so management would be useful. Do you want to do some courses?'

It was brought up very casually and Dean was rooting around in the fridge when he asked the question. Castiel knew this trick. Whenever Dean didn't want Castiel to know what he was thinking, he'd hide his face behind something. The fridge was his favourite shield, since it implied that the question had just occurred to him while he was searching for something in there. Knowing Dean, he had probably brooded about this for weeks, if not months.

'Can't Danny teach you everything you need to know?'

An annoyed sigh drifted past the fridge door. Dean closed it.

'Do _you_ want to go to university? Sam and I fabricated your high school records, high school diploma and shit like that. You have a honors diploma; you might as well take advantage of that,' Dean suggested. Castiel closed the book he was reading and dropped it on the coffee table. It was the original Italian version of _TheTruce_ by Primo Levi. Dean picked it up and hit Castiel in the chest with it. The aggression was not lost on the former angel.

'I like bartending,' he protested.

'You know like fifty languages. Don't you want to do anything with that?' Dean asked. His voice was rising. Castiel didn't understand the anger. He wanted to be with Dean. As long as he was with Dean, it didn't matter what he did. Though, he couldn't deny that the possibility of absorbing knowledge was enticing.

'You'll go too?'

The possibilities were endless. He could study film and literature and music. Or simply languages. Or psychology; to better understand humans. Or art. Or architecture. Or biology. Or science. Or horticulture. New ideas kept occurring to him.

'Yes. I'll take business management and a few other courses. We could do some courses together,' Dean assured him and Castiel kissed him. Gently, Dean placed the book back on the table.

'I didn't mean to, you know,' Dean murmured and he vaguely gestured at the book and Castiel's chest. Castiel simply kissed him again. Soon they were clutching at one another and shuffling into the bedroom.

(***)

'You wrote an essay on Hamlet?' Sam asked, incredulous. Dean merely slid the paper across the table and Sam picked it up.

'The hero and the tragedy: a tale of co dependence,' Sam read. It was the title of Dean's essay. Castiel felt so proud that he was afraid he would burst. He had been the one to convince Dean to take the course Shakespeare's Tragedies with him and Dean was so much better at it than Castiel. In pencil an A graced the paper. Sam looked like he was about to die and go to heaven as he gazed at Dean. Bobby stared at Dean as if he'd never seem him before.

'Don't look at me like that. As if we don't know about tragedy and heroes,' Dean mumbled, clearly embarrassed.

'Someone pinch me,' Sam requested and Castiel obediently twisted his flesh sharply between his fingers. Startled, Sam pushed him away and rubbed the dark welt that was forming on his arms. He glared at Castiel, while Dean sniggered.

'Ouch. What'd you do that for?' Sam asked. Slowly, the colour of the spot was returning to normal, but Sam kept rubbing at it.

'You said...' Castiel began, but Sam interrupted him.

'This is surreal. Dean is writing essays and has a boyfriend who can make a mean margarita and I'm married to a pregnant doctor. That is just bizarre,' Sam explained.

'A lot of people would argue that your life before was bizarre and that the life we are leading now is merely ordinary,' Castiel argued. Bobby nodded sagely. Life had a way of turning out entirely different from how you had expected it to turn out. Very few demons and a lot of lazy Sunday afternoons where Dean and Castiel alternately kissed while listening to Led Zeppelin, read in bed in between sex and watched movies while feeling each other up on the couch.

Sometimes Miranda and Sam came over and they'd go out. They still had the Thursday evening standing tradition to hang out with Bobby. It was like nothing Castiel had ever dared to picture and it was wonderful. They sat in silence for a moment.

'How can you even afford university?' Bobby finally asked.

'We saved some money. Plus, we've got money invested in Sam. I'm counting on him paying that back someday with a hefty interest,' Dean said. Sam nearly choked on his beer and Bobby had to rather roughly pat him on the back a couple of times until he recovered. His face was red.

'That was a birthday gift!' Sam protested. The three other men laughed. It was so easy to tease Sam. Dean said it was like taking candy from a baby, but Castiel had tested that once and it was more difficult than it seemed. The baby had had a surprisingly firm grip on the chocolate bar and when it started to cry its mother had pummelled Castiel with her handbag. Dean had been forced to drag him out of the park, because people had been getting quite upset. So, perhaps it resembled taking candy from an old person? An opportunity to experiment with this idea had not presented itself to Castiel yet and Dean didn't like his experiments anyway.

2016

Despite the fact that Sam had been threatening to call any daughters of his Deanna and Cassie, his daughters escaped that fate. Miranda resolutely vetoed the names. Instead on the 23rd of January, one day before Dean's birthday – makes it easier to remember, Dean said – Rosemary Deanna Winchester was born. Dean immediately took a liking to her when she bit his finger so hard that she drew blood, which was convenient since he was asked to be the godfather.

On the 7th of December of the same year, Amy Joanna Winchester entered the world. Miranda didn't have any siblings, so she asked Castiel to be the godfather. He had tears in his eyes when he accepted. Dean rolled his eyes at him, but he couldn't hide his smile either. It was like being accepted into a family. Officially Castiel's last name was Nicholson, but he had never felt more like a Winchester than when he was holding the little, red, squirming, new life in his arms.

2017

Life was good. Miranda cut back work, but mostly Sam took care of Rose and Amy with a little help from Castiel and Dean. Castiel didn't understand how Sam did it. When Castiel had to take care of the girls, he could never get anything done. No reading, no studying; he couldn't even watch TV. Yet, whenever he went by Sam and Miranda's apartment, the girls were always sleeping peacefully or playing quietly while Sam was pouring over his law books. He had finished his undergraduate pre-law and criminal justice programme and was now reading for his J.D. degree.

Dean and Castiel's lives were good too. Castiel had read in the Cosmopolitan that after a few years the sex would become boring and less frequent, but no such thing had happened. And he still felt a burst of happiness whenever he woke up next to Dean. Dean, however, seemed a bit antsy. He was less pessimistic than he used to be, but he still basically held the belief that fate was a bitch.

'What is wrong, Dean?'

Dean was startled from his gloomy reverie. Heavy sunlight fell on him through the kitchen window. It highlighted every line in his face. Once again Castiel wondered about the colour of Dean's eyes. Now they seemed almost golden. Instead of narrowing down the colours, Castiel kept adding more possible colours, which was somehow not frustrating. It was like discovering a new freckle on Dean's body; just nice.

'Our lives feel like one long Sunday afternoon. That's what's wrong,' Dean replied. He flopped on the couch and Castiel lay down on top of him. The tips of their noses touched and Castiel inched closer to kiss Dean's mouth. It was warm from the sunlight.

'I like Sunday afternoon. What's wrong with it?' Castiel asked against his lover's lips. The short stubble on Dean's cheeks tickled him.

'It ends. It always does,' Dean grumbled. The following year he was proven right.

(***)

Both poems are by E.E. Cummings.

The poem Castiel reads is complete and unedited.

Here's the unabridged version of Dean's pick.

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in

my heart) i am never without it(anywhere

i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done

by only me is your doing, my darling)

i fear

no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want

no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)

and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)


	12. The only fault

**Chapter 12: The only fault**

Dean's POV

2018-2022

2018

'Buy land, they're not making it anymore,' Mark Twain had said once upon a time. It was still true today, so Dean didn't protest when Cas suggested that they buy the land next to the river whereupon the abandoned house stood. It was a spot Dean loved and Cas knew this, which is probably why he took note of the for sale sign. It made their new life even more real. Actually owning a house and a piece of land, even though the house was little more than a dump. Bobby promised to help them renovate it, but it could take some time. That didn't matter, Dean thought, because they had plenty of time. Life was good. Until it wasn't.

The first sign of trouble was when Castiel was attacked after working at the bar. Dean was watching over Rose and Amy, while Sam and Miranda were out on a date, so Castiel was alone. This time, however, he remained unhurt and his two attackers were the ones who got hurt, though they managed to get away. Castiel was pretty excited about fighting them off. Still, Dean was worried.

A week later, the bar burned down. A Molotov cocktail was thrown through the window into the bar and with all the flammable liquids around it was a wonder everyone managed to get out alive. Two suspects were apprehended and that same evening Dean and Castiel met Danny at the police station. They were supposed to look at the suspects and see whether they recognised them. The police was confident that they were the arsonists, but they couldn't find a motive.

'I'm officer Jones and this is officer Hernandez. Follow me,' the police officer introduced himself and his partner. They shook hands. Dean discovered that he was a bit nervous about the proceedings. The last time he had been in this police station was when they had reported the assault on Castiel almost five years ago. Since Castiel couldn't describe his attackers, Dean had thought the whole exercise was futile, but Sam had insisted. The hospital had sent an assault kit with evidence gleaned from Castiel's battered body, including foreign DNA and clear photos of Castiel's facial injuries and the X-ray of his broken ankle, to the police station. They had not heard from the police after that.

'Is that your boyfriend?' the black haired suspect leered at Castiel as soon as they entered the interrogation room. Dean wondered about why they weren't behind one of those one-way mirror thingies, but maybe he had seen one too many cop movies. The other one, with dirty yellowish hair, tried to get his stupid friend to shut up by kicking his shins.

'Shut up, you moron!' he yelled at his partner in crime. Jones restrained him, while Hernandez stood behind the other criminal. So, they know Cas, Dean thought. Perhaps they were the ones who attacked him a week before? It wasn't until he looked at Castiel, that he realised something was seriously wrong. Castiel had shrunk back against the wall and there was a hurt in his eyes that Dean couldn't place.

'Cas?' Dean asked.

'It's them,' Castiel said, 'From last week. But also... the voices, I recognise the voices. From before...'

Before Castiel was finished speaking, Dean had driven his fist into the face of the black haired suspect. Though his hand fucking hurt, he relished the sound of something breaking in the man's face. Please, let it be his jaw, he thought, and raised his fist again, but he was pulled back by officer Jones. From the corner of his eye, Dean saw how the yellow haired one moved, but was floored by Danny's massive fist. Hernandez straightened the black haired suspect, who was moaning in pain to Dean's delight, and glared at Danny. Danny shrugged.

'What? He tried to escape.'

'Fucking fags,' the yellow haired one mumbled. He spit out a blob of blood and a thick stream of blood and saliva dribbled from his mouth. Castiel came forward. Jones loosened his grip on Dean and his hand shot out to prevent Castiel from harming the suspect further, but Castiel calmly waved it away. A bubbly trail of blood trickled down the homophobe's chin as Castiel kneeled down beside him. Dean watched him, worried.

'You're going to prison for a long time,' Castiel said and he smiled at his attacker, 'I suggest you adjust your vocabulary accordingly.'

His hands trembled slightly when he dusted off his jeans, but otherwise Castiel seemed alright. They were quickly escorted into another interrogation room. Dean kept flexing his hand, because it still smarted, but it had been worth it. He grinned at Danny and Danny's eyes twinkled.

'I gather you know them,' Jones dryly deduced, when they were all seated. With what could only be described as light vexation, he opened his notebook and started to type.

'They attacked your friend? Name?' he asked Dean. Without thinking, Dean answered, but Castiel nudged him.

'You might have more success if you look for Jimmy Novak. I had a different name at the time. We reported the crime at this precinct. Assault. It was a hate crime,' Castiel explained. Under the table, Castiel's hand found his and softly caressed the swollen knuckles.

'Yeah, he was walking while gay,' Dean sarcastically added. Jones pulled up the file. Dean turned away from the vivid photos and instead focused on the feeling of Castiel's fingers lightly brushing over his painful hand.

'I see. Might this be the same reason they set the bar on fire?' Jones asked. His hands were busy entering new information into the file. Danny had crossed his arms and Dean felt sorry for him. The bar had been Danny's life and now it was gone.

'Well, they do still seem to harbour animosity towards people of my particular sexual orientation,' Castiel said and Jones' gaze flickered over the former angel trying to detect sarcasm. There was none there. There rarely was. What was there, was the faint tremor in his voice, which Dean didn't fail to notice. It made him want to get up, throw open the door and bash in those assholes' faces good and proper.

They told officer Jones everything and he diligently typed away. Dean had visions of going to court with Sam as the D.A., despite the fact that Sam hadn't even passed the bar yet, and pummelling those guys into submission. Instead, Jones said they probably wouldn't go to court. The evidence for their involvement with the fire was overwhelming and if the DNA of one of them matched the DNA taken from Castiel's face they would do time for that too. They'd most likely plead guilty in exchange for a deal, but no sensible prosecutor would settle for anything less than 15 years.

That was not so bad, Dean thought. This time nobody had gotten hurt who didn't deserve to be hurt and the assholes would be behind bars. Yet, the bar was still destroyed and Danny's insurance on it wasn't enough to restore it or buy another bar. He apologised profusely to Danny about that, but Danny pretended not to mind. However, Castiel and Dean were also out of a job and it wasn't easy to find new ones. The economy was teetering on the brink of another crisis. There was no money to work on their newly acquired house and they only had enough money left to hold out for at the most half a year.

Uncharacteristically, Dean wasn't worried. The big bad thing for that year had already happened, he figured, so they were done for some time. If push came to shove, they'd sleep in the Impala and start hustling people at pool again. They'd be alright, because they had each other. The misery couldn't get any bigger. That was when Miranda got ill.

She sometimes jogged with Castiel and Castiel was the one who told Dean that he was afraid something might be wrong with her. He told Dean about her shortness of breath and her weight loss. Dean didn't think anything of it. Whenever he went running with Castiel, he suffered from shortness of breath too. As for the weight loss; she was a doctor. Wouldn't she be the first to know if something was wrong?

With two young children at home, a husband hard at work to become a lawyer and her own demanding workload, maybe Dean shouldn't have assumed she would be on top of things. Afterwards, he blamed himself for dismissing Castiel's fears and not forcing Miranda to see a doctor, because when she did it was too late.

She was diagnosed with non-small-cell lung carcinoma, stage four. She'd not smoked a day in her life. When Sam told them, he started to cry and Dean couldn't move. Castiel was the one who had to comfort his brother. The tumours had spread. Surgery was out of the question. They tried radiotherapy and chemotherapy, despite their doctor's reluctance. On the web, Dean discovered that the prognosis was bad. The survival rate was 1 percent. Still, she could be that one percent. She could beat the odds.

As the weeks went by and Miranda became paler and weaker and frightfully thin, Dean started to accept the facts. He would watch over Rose and Amy, while Sam was at the hospital, and he'd be half in tears the entire time. Thank God, the girls were too small to understand what was going on.

Thursday evenings became depressing affairs. They would convene at Sam's and speak quietly so as not to wake the girls. Sam would talk in an artificially chipper, not quite there voice about how well Miranda was doing and none of them dared to contradict him. They'd sip their beer and think about what would happen to Sam if Miranda died and whether they should prepare him. However, even Miranda wasn't allowed to talk about that, so what chance did they have of convincing Sam of what was inevitably going to happen?

It wasn't until the doctor point blank told Sam that Miranda had at most a week to live that Sam broke. Dean had to hold him back or he would have attacked the doctor. In the car on the way home, Sam was silent. Dean thought about all the times he had lost Sam and how that had felt as if he lost a piece of his soul, a pound of his flesh. The difference was that he had gotten him back. Every time Sam died, Dean had gotten him back.

Was that an option? Could they stop this? Was there some sort of supernatural loophole that could prevent Miranda from dying? After dropping Sam off at home, Dean visited Bobby. The old hunter didn't seem surprised to see him.

'I figured it would be either Sam or you. Come on in,' he said and Dean went inside. The library/living room was a mess. Crumpled and torn pages were strewn everywhere. The floor was littered with pizza boxes. It looked like Bobby had been holed up here for weeks. There was not even a semblance of order left. Dean looked at Bobby.

'I've called everyone I know. I've read every book. There is nothing. The only way is to make a deal. Do you think Sam would do that?' Bobby asked and Dean saw the fear in the hunter's eyes. They both knew that at this point, Sam was capable of everything. Even selling his soul to save Miranda. Hell, Dean had done that too – he had literally _done_ hell - and despite of all the crap that was the result, he still felt he had made the right decision.

'Right now, I wouldn't put it past him,' Dean sighed. He left Bobby with a promise to watch over Sam and make sure he didn't do something stupid. Maybe this was a good thing. That death was irreversible. It wasn't healthy to see and talk to your entire family after they had died and to keep bringing people back from the death. This was what normal life was: people got sick and sometimes they got better and sometimes they died. This just happened to be one of the latter times. Yet, Dean thought, what if it had been Castiel?

He wouldn't be so accepting and 'oh, how quirky life is' if it was Castiel. He would tear the world apart looking for something to make him stay.

When he arrived home, he was alarmed when he found the door ajar. He drew the knife he kept in his back pocket.

'Cas?' he called out as he nudged the door open with his foot. Suddenly, there was a loud crashing noise in the bedroom and when Dean rushed there and threw open that door, he dropped the knife in shock. Sam was standing with his back to the wall and Castiel had a baseball bat pressed to Sam's throat.

'What the hell is going on?'

The room was trashed. The door of the closet had a hole in it. The mirror was shattered. Splinters from the broken cabinet clung to Castiel's woollen sweater. The bed had collapsed; its mattress was lying half on the bed frame and half on the floor and one sorry broken wooden leg from the bed dangled in the air. There were shards of glass on the carpet and glittering in their hair.

'He tried to...' Castiel growled, but Sam kneed him in the stomach. Recoiling in pain, Castiel stumbled backwards and Sam pushed him onto the bed. Now Dean could see the dark bruises forming on Castiel's neck. For a moment, Dean didn't know what to do, but then he stepped in between them to protect Castiel.

'What did you do?'

Sam didn't answer him. His eyes – crazy eyes: like really hot chick crazy eyes, Dean thought – skipped from Dean to Castiel and back again, until he screamed in frustration and stalked into the living room. Dean wanted to go after him and demand an answer, but Castiel stopped him.

'Dean, don't,' Castiel croaked. One hand went up to touch his mangled throat, but he prematurely aborted the motion. He got up from the bed and Dean gingerly touched the angry marks of strangling fingers on his neck. They both winced. Castiel was the first to enter the living room. Dean followed him and Sam was sitting on the couch. He looked ashamed, yet furious. Ready to boil over at any moment.

'What the fuck happened?' Dean demanded. Sam raked his hand through his dishevelled hair. The gesture was aggressive. He pointed a trembling, accusing finger at Castiel.

'He won't do anything. I've asked him, but he won't,' Sam gritted out. The desperation in his voice nearly killed Dean. He glanced at Castiel, who was applying a bag of frozen peas to his throat. Dean's lover looked saddened. His blue eyes were full of pain and Dean was pretty sure it had nothing to do with his physical state.

'About Miranda?'

Sam nodded and licked his lips. His eyebrow was split and his right cheek was smeared with the blood trickling down from it. Apparently, Cas' fight training had really paid off.

'I've asked Bobby,' Dean said and Sam's head snapped up, hopefully, 'He hasn't got anything either.'

Castiel sighed softly and Sam bowed his head in defeat. His brother buried his face in his face, probably further messing up his face and Dean thought he might be crying, but his shoulders were still. After a few sharp inhales, Sam took away his hands and looked at Dean with determination.

'I'll make a deal,' Sam simply said. Dean wanted to punch him into next week. What the hell was Sam thinking?

'She wouldn't want that,' Castiel whispered. His voice was still hoarse and Dean could see the pain it caused him to speak. Sam's infamous bitch face appeared and he got up from the couch. He looked like he was about to lay into Cas again, so Dean blocked his path.

'How do you know what she wants?' Sam protested. And that was about all Dean could take. To come into his home and attack his boyfriend because he couldn't help; that was already too much, but to think about making a deal... To actually seriously consider that, as if that was some sort of solution...

'How do _you_ not know? Remember when I did that for you?' Dean shouted. Sam backed away as if struck.

'Dean...' Sam pleaded, but Dean was having none of it. He poked his brother's chest and Sam walked backwards until he was up against the wall. Suddenly, Sam was not the angry one anymore. It was scary and comforting at the same time to Dean to feel all the old familiar feelings returning. Anger and guilt and fear; it was all there. What if Sam made a deal? Miranda would be right here; knowing that Sam had died for her and for the first time Dean realised that this was not a good thing.

'Yeah, you were so grateful, weren't you? And it worked out so well for everyone involved, didn't it?' he hissed and Sam cringed.

To have someone else die for you that was, yes; love, but a twisted kind of love. Because the person you left behind would feel guilty. So guilty. Like Sam must have felt after Dean went to hell for him. It had driven Sam nearly crazy. He had taken up with Ruby and used his freaky exorcising mojo without thinking about the consequences, all in an epic quest for vengeance. Look where that had gotten them. Lucifer, the apocalypse, the loss of Sam's soul, Cas declaring himself God.

All little pieces fitting together to form a fucking puzzle and the first piece had been Dean's sacrifice. A sacrifice which hadn't been a sacrifice at all. It was purely selfish. He hadn't believed he could live in a world without Sam, so he had acted almost without thinking. Dean swallowed. He was beyond happy that Sam was here right now to yell at, but maybe he should have tried. Tried living in a world without Sam. Other people did. Children buried their parents, parents buried their children, lovers buried lovers and brothers buried brothers. Why couldn't he have buried his brother?

'Miranda is going to die. Bobby can't help, Cas can't help...' Dean coldly stated. Sam's shoulders slumped and his gaze turned towards Castiel again.

'But Cas, you're an angel. Surely, you can do something,' Sam begged. Instead of a finger poking into Sam's chest, Dean's hands were now the only thing keeping Sam from falling over.

'He was an angel. Operative word being was. And it doesn't work that way. Up there they don't interfere with fate,' Dean continued and, as Sam shuddered at hearing the word 'fate,' he added, 'This is happening. You can't keep avoiding it. You have to think about it.'

'I _have_ thought about it! About what I'll do. I don't have a job. I've still got two years before I get my degree and I can take the bar exam. What will I do with Rose and Amy? I can't take care of them and study. I can't keep the three of us. Miranda was the provider. Is. Damn it! Is,' Sam insisted and Dean realised that Sam hadn't accepted the reality until this day. He had quietly thought about making arrangements for later, but he hadn't really thought about what it all meant. Dean guided Sam to the couch and pushed him into a sitting position.

'See? See what I mean? I think about the money. I don't think about what living without her will be like, because I'm a bastard. I am a bastard. This is all my fault. I forced her to go through chemo. I shortened her life and made the remaining time worse.'

There were tears in Sam's eyes and Castiel whimpered. Dean couldn't look at either of them or he knew he would start crying like a little bitch too. So, he focused on the wall and squeezed his brother's shoulder. He made his voice steady and rational, which was hard, but it had to be done. One of them had to be the sensible one. It said a lot about the seriousness of the situation and how screwed they all were that he was the designated voice of reason, Dean thought.

'First of all, you couldn't force Miranda to do anything if you pointed a gun at her head, so calm down with the blame. Secondly, no matter what, the time she had left would have been awful. If it hadn't been for the chemo, the cancer would have eaten away at her,' Dean said. Not that it would do any good, saying all these things. They were true, but that would do nothing to dissipate Sam's guilt.

'The health insurance doesn't cover everything. I'm... we're nearly out of money. I'm doing it again. I'm a bastard,' Sam protested and his shoulders started to shake, but he didn't make a sound. Dean squeezed harder, but Sam kept trembling.

'You're thinking about practical things, because it's easier, Sam. Not because you're heartless. And you don't have to worry about any of that. I'll take care of you, Sam, like I always have. We'll take care of you,' Dean promised. He forced himself to look at Castiel. His lover or soul mate or whatever the hell you want to call it had placed the bag of peas on the counter and was dabbing at his eyes.

Man, if Cas is crying we are really fucked, Dean thought, but through his tears the former angel nodded. They would take care of Sam and Rose and Amy. Dean swallowed again. He felt like someone had tried to strangle him too; it was that painful and hard. His eyes stung, but he shook the feeling off. Sam looked up at him.

'She's still here and I already feel... I just don't want to feel like this for the rest of my life. Does it get better?' Sam asked. His voice was little more than a whisper. Dean stifled the urge to laugh, because how the hell would he know? Cas stared at him too. As if he had answers. It was as if they didn't know him. He was probably the least likely person to have the answers to life's biggest questions. When Sam was in the cage and Cas was not there... Did that get better? Yes and no.

'What was it like with Jessica? Did that get better?' Dean asked. It was one of the things he hated: answering a question with a question, but it was the best he could do right now. Sam sighed. Even that sigh came out ragged and pained.

'I don't... I just got through the days, surviving and eventually I started living again,' Sam answered.

'You just go on,' Dean said. Perhaps it was something he knew, because he had tried to do that with Lisa and Ben. He had tried to do that after Castiel declared himself God. And Sam had done that after Jessica and after Dean was shredded by the hellhounds. Their method wasn't exactly healthy, but to a certain degree it worked.

'I would have been with her all my life, Dean. All my life,' Sam sobbed and Dean embraced him. Dean stared at the wall, squeezed his eyes shut and thought about Cas. Cas was everything he wanted for the rest of his life; at least that was what Dean had thought. Now he realised that there were a lot of things he wanted, a lot of people whom he felt responsible for, a lot of people who needed to be happy before Dean was happy. How the hell did that happen?

One day there was just Sam and then there was Bobby. Completely unexpected, yet not a surprise at all: Castiel. And now Rose and Amy and even Danny. Miranda too. Somehow this burden was heavier than to hold the fate of humanity in the palm of his hand. Humanity was faceless. These people he loved weren't.

'I know,' he whispered. Dean didn't know who Sam was talking about; Miranda or Jessica, but it didn't matter. Curiously, it didn't matter. They were both gone. Miranda too. Gone for good, while she was still here. Behind him, he could hear Cas switch on the electric water boiler. Tea; that was Castiel's solution for every stressful situation. He figured he should be happy that Cas hadn't offered Sam a massage. But Dean liked tea-making Cas. It reminded him of the old Castiel. Cute and clueless; the man always underneath the angelic crap. The man he loved.

Sam cried for what seemed like an eternity, while Dean said stupid, meaningless things like 'there, there' and 'it's going to be alright.' The latter wasn't even stupid; it was just a lie, but while Sam must have known this, it comforted him. Eventually, he dried his eyes and meekly went home. Dean sat down on the couch, exhausted and rubbed at his eyes. Castiel quietly sat down next to him.

''Good things do happen.' You said that,' Dean mumbled and Cas kissed his hand.

'I know what you mean. They don't last or they happen to the wrong people. I remember the book and Atropos and believing there was a system. It seems like organised chaos now. Arbitrary,' Castiel said. Dean didn't think he could ever get behind fate. Mysterious ways; my ass, he thought. Nobody had any idea why things happened.

'It was a nice offer of you, Dean, but...'

'Cas, I know, but he's broken.'

'And we're broke.'

'I know.'

(***)

Miranda died. The funeral was sober, simply because between the three of them they couldn't afford a lot. Sam and Rose and Amy moved in with Dean and Castiel, because that saved them money in rent. Their apartment wasn't big enough for three adults and two children, but they managed.

For Dean and Cas living in a car and hustling people at pool might be an acceptable lifestyle, but it was less so for a studying father of two. There were no jobs on the horizon. Dean wanted to hustle, but he was afraid to leave Sam alone with the girls. His brother was perfectly capable of leaving the door open and not noticing one of the girls wandering outside, so either Dean or Cas needed to be there. To watch over Rose and Amy _and_ to watch over Sam. Dean refused to let Castiel hustle alone, because of the angry duped people and Castiel responded by refusing to let Dean go off alone.

One Thursday evening, Dean vented to Bobby, because they only had one more month of rent left and they were thinking about selling a car. Either Sam's Mustang or Dean's Impala. Sam couldn't care less. Dean had watched as Sam had started to disappear. All he did was study. Whenever he looked at his daughters, there was a vacant, indulgent expression on his face that made Dean want to kick him. Bobby didn't approve of Sam escaping into his law books, but Dean didn't know what else to do.

'Taking care of two kids on your own is difficult enough without having to get a law degree and mourning your recently deceased wife. He's broken, Bobby. I don't know whether this is the right thing to do, but I hardly dare to leave him alone with Rose and Amy. So, for now, let him focus on school and we'll take care of the kids.'

The following Thursday, Bobby arrived early, carrying a duffle bag and an envelope full of money. He told them he had sold his house and the salvage yard and was moving into their house by the water. Using the money from the sale, he was going to fix up that house, so they could all live there. Dean protested that the house by the water was a dump. Bobby countered that it was probably better than where he used to live. Castiel said they couldn't accept the money, though his eyes seemed to ask Dean to remind him why this was the case.

After a prolonged tense and angry conversation, Dean put his foot down.

'We can't let you do that,' he shouted. Bobby simply took a beer from the fridge and sat down at the kitchen table.

'Too late; it's already done. I've worked too hard on those cars to have you idjits sell them.'

2019

Dean woke up nestled in Cas' arms and yawned lazily. In the kitchen, he could hear Sam admonishing Rose and Amy and telling them to keep it quiet. Naturally, the girls didn't listen. Light filtered through the curtains and Dean caressed the arm slung over his chest softly with his thumb. This is pretty good, he thought, I am... With a bolt that startled Castiel out of his light sleep, Dean sat up straight.

'I woke up and I realised I am happy,' Dean admitted. That was a horrible thought. How could he think that?

'That's bad?' Castiel asked. His fingers fluttered onto Dean's stomach and pulled him back into a warm embrace.

'Yes, because I made a list of people who need to be happy before I can be happy and almost all of them are miserable. Miranda is dead, Rose and Amy miss their mother and don't really understand that she's dead, Bobby has given up his life to help us out, Danny has lost his bar and Sam is fine...for someone who recently lost his wife. The only one happy is you.'

'And you,' Castiel pointed out. He was playing at being obtuse again; Dean knew that. Cas had the dubious ability to know what Dean was thinking and feeling before Dean knew himself. It was almost as if his angel telepathic thing had never been removed and he still knew Dean's every thought. It was nice to be so connected to another person, but also a bit worrying. Being one was wonderful, but Dean also wanted to be himself. Luckily, Cas understood this and sometimes pretended he didn't know what Dean meant.

'I feel it isn't right. For so long, I've gauged my happiness by watching how happy Sam was. It was co-dependent and unhealthy and everything, like Lisa said. And now you're that person for me. As long as you're alive and happy and with me, I'm happy,' Dean said and he immediately felt like a sappy idiot.

'That's a bit crazy, but isn't love crazy? Didn't someone sing about a crazy little thing called love? I know you worry about Sam and the girls and almost everyone we know constantly. It's alright to feel happy occasionally, Dean. You're certainly not a sentimental idiot for feeling that way about me. I feel exactly the same about you,' Castiel comforted him.

Dean turned around and kissed those lips. When he fell in love with Cas, it felt like it would last forever, but Dean wasn't fooled by that feeling. That's what falling in love always felt like. It was hormones and pheromones and neurons firing. It wasn't real. _This _was real. Just having Cas there and Dean's fucking heart hammering every time they touched. Every time Cas spoke to him. Every time Cas smiled at him.

It was comfortable, like an old sweater. Yet, it was also epic, because Dean thought he understood what Cas had meant when he had lost his grace. Cas had been more than just his body. Well, Dean's love for Cas was bigger than his body or his mind. It stretched out before him and behind him, covering the entire earth. It was all-encompassing and Dean thought it would hardly be possible for it to end. Not even when he died. It would live on. Eternally. Sappily.

'You have my heart, so don't hurt me,' Dean whispered into Castiel's mouth. There it was again. Cas was the only one who could make him say embarrassing lovey dovey shit like that.

'Dean, don't be ridiculous. I can never hurt you. Not again. If I hurt you I hurt myself.'

'So, really, being nice to me is just self-preservation? No, Cas, not there. Stop it. Ah, yes, _there_. Right there. Don't stop. I love you.'

2020

People Dean had seen only twice in his life – at Sam and Miranda's wedding and at Miranda's funeral – helped them. Friends of Sam from university came by and helped flatten the yard. Danny assisted with getting the right building permits. Miranda's parents watched over Rose and Amy while they worked on the ground floor. Other members from Miranda's family assisted with the roof and regulars from the bar came over one long weekend to put the finishing touches to the house. In the end, it cost a lot less than Dean thought it would and it was finished quicker too.

There were some awkward moments, when people stumbled upon Bobby moving in his collection of occult books or a chest of weapons. Miranda's father, William, walked in on a pretty hard to explain conversation.

'Put the phones really high,' Dean told Bobby as he was installing his phones.

'Why?' Bobby asked, frowning and jerking on what Dean supposed was a phone line. His hand was halfway in the wall. Dean was grateful to Bobby, but to think of all of them living in one house was a bit anxiety inducing. He vividly remembered that time when they had waited for Castiel to become human and how much Bobby had wanted them out of there. Add two little girls to the mix and Dean was pretty sure their lives would rival hell.

'Because I don't think anyone's going to believe we're CIA or FBI if a toddler answers the phone,' Dean explained and William chose that moment to come into the kitchen. Bobby kept pulling at the cable and cursing. Quickly, Dean took William aside and mumbled something about Bobby being a weirdo. It was what they did.

When Danny had discovered the EMF, Cas had pointed towards Bobby and tapped his head. Now whenever someone found something related to their previous life, they all pretended that Bobby was a little crazy. It pissed Bobby off, which was a pretty nice bonus, as far as Dean was concerned.

(***)

Towards the end of 2020 they moved into the house and it wasn't nearly as bad as Dean had expected it to be. Sure, they had virtually no privacy and if he wanted to take a proper shower with Cas he needed to lock the bathroom door, but other than that it was ok.

The worst moment was when Amy asked when her mother would join them. Dean lifted her up and put her on the kitchen table and tried to explain again. He didn't like to use euphemisms, like 'gone' or 'went to a better place,' because the first indicated to a child that Miranda might come back and the second wasn't true. So, he told Amy that Miranda was in heaven. Amy seemed to understand that. Luckily, she didn't know heaven was a pretty crappy place.

2021

Water was cascading down Dean's back. Their new shower was awesome. It was much roomier than the one they'd had at the apartment and it was just Cas and his, which meant Sam was never complaining that Dean was taking too long. Suddenly, a hand grabbed his shoulder and shoved him with his back against the tiles. Opening his mouth to protest, Dean swallowed some water and coughed.

'Cas! Fuck, don't scare me like that,' Dean snapped, but he was immediately appeased when Cas kissed him and nibbled on his lower lip. Pushing his entire body flush against Dean's, Castiel started to whisper in Dean's left ear.

'I love your lips, around me,' he said and kissed Dean again. Then he softly bit Dean's nose.

'I love your nose, it's a piece of art,' he mumbled and Dean tried to keep from blushing. Cas often said that about various pieces of his anatomy, but Dean still hadn't figured out how to react. It was too much praise and made Dean feel weird. Castiel moved his hands down and lightly suckled Dean's right and then his left shoulder.

'I love your shoulders, because you always carry the burden. I remember when you were in the hospital and you said that we were doomed if we relied on you. It was confusing, because it was as if you didn't know yourself at all. I knew you loved me, but it was tucked away under layers of denial,' Castiel continued in a low timbre. His words and kissed travelled through Dean's body. They made his scalp tingle and his toes curl.

'Ah, my, I fuck guys, but I don't love 'em phase,' Dean interjected nonchalantly, while Castiel licked his collarbones in long, slow strokes. It was all Dean could do to keep from moaning.

'Yes, and it was as if you didn't understand. It was important to... win; for lack of a better word, but it was at least as important to do everything you could do. You did your best. You tried. You always do. Even when it costs you everything. That's why I love you.'

Raising his hands, Dean cupped Castiel's face and leaned in to kiss him, but Castiel took his hands and covered them with kisses and gentle bites and furtive caresses of his tongue. New erogenous zone: hands. With Cas, Dean was forever discovering more tiny places where something as simple as a kiss would hit just the right spot and almost make Dean come.

'I love your hands, because they wake me in the morning, because they are soft and hard like you,' Castiel murmured and then he sank to his knees and began, 'I love your...'

'Cas, come here. It's my turn,' Dean urged and pulled his lover to his feet. He reserved their positions, so Castiel was standing with his back against the tiles. They kissed and Dean sucked Castiel's lips into his mouth. He grinned when Castiel moaned.

'I love your lips, because they kiss me all tender and shit without making me feel like a pussy,' Dean said as he kissed the tip of Castiel's nose. It was true. With anyone else, this would all feel incredibly humiliating, but with Cas it was business as usual.

'I love your nose, sometimes it is the only thing keeping me from punching you,' he invented. That was less true. Sometimes Cas could be infuriatingly reasonable, but Dean couldn't imagine hurting Cas. Like Castiel had said; it would be like hurting himself.

'I love your shoulders, because you always lighten my burden by shouldering half,' Dean admitted as his teeth grazed across the smooth skin of Castiel's shoulders. Taking his time to nip at the tender hollow just above Castiel's collarbones, Dean took Castiel's hands and slipped his fingers one at a time into his mouth. The soft suction seemed to drive Castiel crazy and the wet sound as they popped out and Dean's lips released them was strangely arousing.

'I love your hands, because of how they braid Rose's hair and yet also do unspeakable things to me,' Dean said and he sank down. The tiny mosaic tiles were almost soft underneath his knees as Dean placed small kisses across Castiel's tense stomach muscles.

'I love your abs, simply because I'm shallow,' Dean concluded. Hopeful, Cas looked into his eyes, but Dean merely waited. As if he had forgotten what Castiel had said about his lips. Finally, Cas spoke.

'Aren't you going to tell me why you love my...' Castiel asked, but Dean interrupted him by softly engulfing the uncommented-upon organ with his lips. Cas moaned and fisted Dean's short hair. Slowly, Dean swirled his tongue around.

'Cas?' a pip squeaky voice asked from outside the shower, but inside the bathroom and Dean nearly chocked. Damn it, Cas hadn't locked the door. Carefully and grateful for the fact that nothing about the shower was see through, Dean pulled back and stood up.

'Yes, Rose?' Castiel asked. Dean leaned against him and buried his face in Castiel's neck to keep from laughing. It wasn't as if the girls didn't know that they were a couple, but a visual presentation at the age of 5 probably wasn't... prudent.

'Whatcha doing?' Rose asked. Dean could imagine her sitting on the edge of the bath and swinging those little stick legs every which way. 'Whatcha doing?' was her newest favourite phrase along with 'why not?' whenever one of her requests was denied.

'I'm...' Cas began, but lord knows what he was going to say, so Dean covered his mouth with his hand and thought of something to say. He hadn't forgotten that masturbation question in front of Bobby and Sam and that poor waitress.

'Cas is helping me wash my hair,' Dean eventually said. After a short silence, wherein Dean wondered whether it had been wise to reveal that he was also in the shower and how smart five year olds actually were, Rose spoke again.

'So it doesn't get in your eyes?'

'Yes, exactly,' Dean confirmed, relieved. Rose didn't seem surprised or fazed by his presence in the shower at all.

'Because that hurts.'

'Yes, it does.'

'Okay, bye,' Rose called, satisfied by that account of their activities, and Dean heard the bathroom door close. Quickly, he darted out of the shower and locked the door. Ducking under the warm water, he saw Cas mouthing sorry to him, but all incriminations were instantly forgotten when Castiel pulled Dean towards him. They kissed and Cas' hands trailed over Dean's back. Life couldn't be better, except for one little thing. Two girls without a mother and one brother without a wife.

2022

'Dean Winchester speaking,' he said and for a moment he was concerned whether he'd perhaps picked up one of the hunter assistance phones and wasn't supposed to be Dean Winchester, but someone with the CDC. He sighed as he saw that the phone was on the kitchen counter and not placed high up against the wall. No, it was alright to be Dean Winchester.

The beer was starting to cloud his mind and Rose and Amy's excited shrieking outside didn't help either. Thankfully, Sam was slowly reverting back to normal again or Dean would have worried about the fireworks. The Sam from the previous years would probably have let Rose and Amy light the firework if they'd asked nicely.

'Hi, it's Sarah Blake,' a female voice on the other side of the line introduced herself. That name was vaguely familiar. Something from the past. The pause that followed indicated that Dean's suspicion was right; the woman expected Dean to recognise her name.

'I'm sorry. Should I know you?'

'I don't know. Do you have a younger brother called Sam?' the voice asked. That seemed like a strange question. Unless she was checking to see whether he was that crazy hunter Dean, because 'Do you have a younger brother called Sam?' sounds a whole lot more sane than 'Do you happen to hunt monsters and demons?' Or he was making this all up and it was just someone who needed to speak to Sam and could only find Dean Winchester listed in the phone book.

'Yes. What is this about?'

'There can't be too many of those,' the voice mumbled, before continuing loud and clear, 'Alright, if you're not who I think you are this is going to sound insane. Almost fifteen years ago there was a haunted painting and a ghost with a creepy doll and I kind of helped you and your brother with it. Do you remember?'

Wheels started to turn in Dean's head and he did remember. The slit throats and the little psycho girl. Sam had nursed a crush on her. Not the psycho girl, but the woman he was talking to now. The one who had helped them.

'Ah, you're the gallery chick,' Dean sighed and she let out a little relieved and amused chuckle.

'Well, auction chick, actually. Sarah Blake. I was wondering whether you and Sam still do that sort of thing, because I think there are vampires here,' she explained. Sam rarely did that, but Dean or Castiel often went with Bobby. It was a nice way of letting off steam and it kept them in shape in case of another apocalypse.

'Yeah, sometimes. So, what seems to be the problem?' Dean asked. He pulled a note block towards him and jotted down the word vampires and drew a pair of fangs.

'They are killing people and drinking their blood. That's standard for vampires, I guess. Now probably isn't a good time with it being New Year's Eve, but I thought maybe you could come over sometime next week. You and Sam could stay at my house, if you want to.'

'That would be great,' Dean asked. He wrote down her address and listened to bits of her life story. Abridged, Dean suspected, but then again he'd leave some stuff out of his own life story too. When he had taken down everything relevant to the hunt and some irrelevant yet still important stuff, an awkward pause followed.

'So... how is Sam doing?' she inquired, haltingly. It sounded casual. Perhaps too casual.

'Fine.' Fine, considering. Fine, except for one thing. Fine, for someone whose wife has died. As Dean looked at her address, a thought occurred to him. Maybe he could make Sam's life just fine again, without having to add a 'but.' He promised Sarah they'd phone her before coming and hung up. Outside the fireworks were popping and cracking and bursting. Maybe Dean could make the New Year good for Sam.


	13. I wish you love

**Chapter 13: I wish you love**

Castiel's POV

2023

Castiel watched Rose and Amy shriek as Sam ignited the last of the fireworks. Dean had gone inside for more warm wine. It was disgusting, but apparently some kind of tradition that needed to be preserved. However, Dean came outside without the wine and a rather smug expression on his face that worried Castiel. Before he had time to ask him about it, Dean asked Sam whether he'd like some help putting the girls to bed.

Their yawns had been increasing exponentially for the last thirty minutes. They protested, since their aim had been to stay awake the entire night, but despite their valiant efforts they were clearly not going to succeed. At least they had made it past midnight.

Castiel turned around and leaned on the gate. Another person who had not succeeded in staying awake was Bobby, who was currently asleep on a deck chair. Castiel watched the fireworks in the distance. They were filling the black sky with bursting colours and figures. In the river, he could see their distorted reflections.

He felt he was doing it wrong. He _was_ doing it wrong. Dean said there was no wrong; that people grieved in different ways, but nonetheless, Castiel felt that he was doing it wrong.

It had been five years since Miranda had died and Castiel was still trying to wrap his head around it. Death; it was... What was it? To be or not to be. Except perhaps the difficulty did not lie in the not being, but in the process of going from the being to the not being.

There was so much of it that he had thought he understood and now discovered he didn't understand at all. The irreversibility of death. Its dubious necessity. Its randomness. Cancer: what did that mean? It was natural, but didn't seem natural at all. It was indiscriminate. There was no cause and effect. Where was the reason? Where was the why? The why was everywhere, except where it was supposed to be. Why Miranda? Why so soon? Why?

And what was it to him? He had liked Miranda and he liked Sam. He liked Amy and Rose. The only one he really loved was Dean. Yet, sometimes he felt that something was missing because she was gone.

When he was only an angel he had usually related to human emotions via Dean. He had tried that again. What did it mean to Dean? Castiel loved Dean, Dean loved Sam and Sam had loved Miranda. Sam was hurt, so Dean was hurt, which meant that Castiel was hurt. The problem was that it didn't hurt enough or at other times too much. Too much grief for this person who was only tangentially related to him.

Crying was supposed to help. Sam had said it made him feel better. Castiel had tried it. It was difficult and afterwards he felt worse, so he couldn't even do that right. He'd practise fighting in the basement with Sam and Dean. Couldn't they do that too? Couldn't they practise mourning? Because he was screwing it up.

The worst thing was when he wanted to go jogging and thought about calling Miranda to ask her to come with him. It took him a few seconds to remember that she couldn't come, because she had died. He was ashamed to tell even Dean. Another thing he hadn't told anyone was that he had tried to do something to prevent Miranda dying. It was perhaps the first time he had regretted becoming human, because his hands could heal nothing. He was helpless.

Sam touched his shoulder and watched the fireworks in the distance with him. Dean kept trying to convince Castiel that Sam was getting better, but there was a sadness in Sam's eyes that hadn't been there before. The taller Winchester smiled at Castiel and suddenly Castiel felt he had to tell him about the efforts he had made, regardless of how fruitless they had been.

'Sam, I want to talk to you about the fight we had when Miranda was dying. I know I said then that I wouldn't do anything, but I lied,' Castiel admitted. Sam looked at him, as if trying to gauge the potential pain his statement would bring.

The fact of the matter was that he had tried to summon Balthazar. It might not have been the most logical choice, since he had been the one to kill Balthazar and upon his resurrection Balthazar would most likely have felt some animosity towards him. Due to the enormous overhaul in heaven, Balthazar was the only angel Castiel could think of who would not laugh in his face as he pleaded for the life of a human. Unfortunately, the pleading never came to pass.

Castiel had called his name, had used some of Bobby's invocations and nothing had happened. After that he had attempted other angels, but none of them had appeared either. Eventually, he had turned to God himself. No sign. If that was praying, Castiel reflected, praying really sucked. At times it felt reassuring, he was sure, but to him it mostly felt like speaking to someone who wasn't there or who was there but wasn't listening.

'I tried to contact them, but no one came. I'd have done it if I could, I hope you know I would,' he said. He shuffled his feet and looked at the dark, swirling water of the river, because he couldn't look at Sam. Suddenly, Sam's hand squeezed his shoulder in a friendly manner.

'I know, Cas. Don't worry. Of course I know,' Sam reassured him. He yawned and Castiel followed suit. The bursts of coloured lights were growing less frequent. It was getting colder too. They should probably wake Bobby before he froze to death. The old man had consumed the most alcohol of them all.

'It's funny. Once or twice a year when I wake up, I still experience a moment where I expect to find her lying next to me. And then I realise she's gone,' Sam whispered. Castiel couldn't see the humour in it. It sounded awful. Yet, it comforted him. Apparently, forgetting that Miranda was dead wasn't an abnormal thing to do if Sam sometimes also did it. That was a relief.

'I'd better wake Bobby and go to sleep if I have to be off first thing in the morning. Happy new year,' Sam said.

'Happy new year,' Castiel returned. He watched Sam open the gate and walk across the pier to Bobby, but he turned around before Sam reached him. As he slowly approached the house, he looked up. All he could see were bright stars and a half moon. The rest of the sky was dark. Silently, he entered the house and mounted the stairs. He didn't want to be responsible for waking Amy and Rose. At other times he enjoyed their company, their inability to be evil. The worst Amy and Rose could aspire to at the age of six was being naughty. Now he wanted to be with Dean.

'Where is Sam going today?' Castiel asked. Dean was lying face down on the bed. It was his trademark position if he was too tired to do anything. Castiel sat down next to him and slipped his hands under Dean's sweater. Dean shuddered as icy hands caressed the soft skin of his back.

'Nest of vampires two towns over. Sam's going there in the morning,' Dean mumbled. His voice was muffled in the sheets, but Castiel heard him perfectly. Frowning, he extracted his hands.

'That doesn't seem like such a good idea.'

Immediately, Dean turned his head to look at him. Just like Sam, Dean had a bitch face and he was employing it now.

'Because I thought of it?' he asked. Sometimes Dean could be very sensitive about his ideas, suggestions and/or plans. The room was chilly, so Castiel was surprised when Dean started to undress. He watched with delight as Dean shed his sweater and the wife beater underneath. Suspecting that Dean was trying to distract him from the topic at hand, but nonetheless intrigued, Castiel sighed.

'No Dean, because it simply isn't a good idea,' he repeated. Dean huffed in indignation and continuing to shed clothes. Boots, socks, jeans. In his boxers, Dean faced him.

'Because I thought of it,' he stated and disappeared into the bathroom. Castiel followed him inside.

'He hasn't shown an interest in hunting for a long time,' Castiel protested. Dean fiddled with the taps until the shower was just the right temperature, which, judging by the clouds of steam was scalding hot. Realising he could use a shower too, because he had spend too long in the cold outside, Castiel began removing items of clothing too.

'His wife died. I'm sure he'd like to kill something. I would if you died,' Dean said and quickly stepped out of his boxers and into the shower. Roughly, he pulled the shower curtain against the wall and continued his explanation, 'And he never has any time to his own. We're always crowding him here and at his work he can't relax either.'

Castiel was trying to undress faster, because even though he couldn't see Dean the thought of Dean's muscular body all supple and wet was doing the usual things to his body. His breathing accelerated as he threw his clothes in the laundry basket and locked the door.

'On his own? You are considering sending him to kill a nest of vampires on his own? Why?'

'Because...' Dean said which was followed by a few undecipherable mumbles and splutters. There wouldn't be a lot of his brain left to concentrate once he joined Dean in the shower, so shivering slightly, Castiel waited. Dean didn't clarify his spluttered mumblings.

'Mumbling only confirms that you're trying to pass a bad idea by me, Dean,' Castiel said loudly, growing increasingly exasperated and aroused. He had long ago discovered that he found it pretty attractive when Dean tried to fool him regarding irrelevant matters. Dean was not very good at it and it was irresistible.

'Because he needs to get out without us looking over his shoulder all the time. He'll stay with Sarah Blake...' Dean answered. Several things clicked in Castiel's mind at that moment and he interrupted him.

'Wait, wait. The woman from the gallery. Sam once liked her. But isn't she married?' he asked.

'How do you even remember that?'

Dean sounded amazed. Castiel didn't understand why. He remembered everything Dean said and Dean knew this.

'Let me guess; you remember everything I say. Look, Sam just needs some distraction,' Dean elucidated. Castiel needed a distraction too, because he could only think about Dean behind the shower curtain. Dean; hot and warm and willing. Dean; glimmering under the steady stream of water and soft under his fingers. Another intense shiver due to the cold shook Castiel and made him attempt to focus again.

'Is this some sort of ill advised matchmaking endeavour? What is the distraction? Sarah or the vampires?'

'Both. For your information, she is divorced now and Sam needs to get out of his funk. Come in here,' Dean requested and because Castiel clearly recognised the lust in Dean's voice he obeyed. The warmth of the water made him sigh with pleasure and he leaned against the wall with his eyes closed.

'He has lost his wife,' Castiel objected. It was an important distinction. Sam was not in a funk; he was still in mourning. Yet, it sounded feeble. Mostly, because Castiel was fighting the desire to open his eyes and look at Dean at which point their conversation would be over.

'It has been five years. He'll always miss her. It's time to start living again,' Dean told him. Strong hands slid down Castiel's arms and his eyes fluttered open for a second, but he quickly shut them again. He could feel Dean standing behind him. Not actually feel, as in touch, but he felt Dean's presence. He smelt suspiciously like he always used to smell. Like sweat and pine needles and gunpowder. The gunpowder was from the fireworks, Castiel guessed. The only thing missing was the sharp scent of rock salt.

'Someone has to go with him,' Castiel demanded.

'I'll go,' Dean offered.

'And upset them with your obvious matchmaking? I don't think that's wise.'

'Well, Bobby can't go: he's like a natural cock block,' Dean drily asserted. Castiel wished Dean hadn't said that. His lust for Dean could withstand discussions about Sam and his deceased wife, but it wasn't immune to the use of 'Bobby' and the word 'cock' in one sentence. Disappointed, he ventured to open his eyes. As if he knew what he had done, Dean smirked at him.

'Short of sending Amy and Rose, who I think wouldn't be very useful with hunting vampires and who might prove to be an obstacle to the rekindling of Sam and Sarah's past relationship, it looks like I'm going with him.'

Dean shoved aside the shower curtain and stepped out of Castiel's sight. Sighing heavily, Castiel followed him and turned off the taps. The steam in the bathroom was thick, but Castiel could still observe Dean in all his glory. Dean was a work of art, though whenever Castiel voiced this opinion, Dean shrugged it off hastily.

'You only want to go, because you think my plan is doomed to fail,' Dean muttered and he flicked his towel at Castiel.

'It's not even a plan. A plan has stages. You're merely going to send Sam away and hope they fall in love. It's wishful thinking,' Castiel responded. He didn't mean to be so hard on Dean, but he didn't like the way Dean was pushing Sam. Sam probably didn't appreciate the manipulation either, but he was still easily cowed. Still not normal, if he ever would be again. Suddenly, Dean stopped his vigorous towelling and sought out Castiel's eyes.

'Cas, I just wish he'd have what we have,' he said seriously.

'I do too,' Castiel responded. He wasn't entirely sure Dean's approach was the prudent manner to accomplish this goal. Unlocking the door, Dean walked into the bedroom. He paused in front of the large, oval mirror. Since they had stopped working, Castiel had noticed changes in Dean's body. He was still muscular and lean, but some areas were fleshier than before. Dean patted his stomach and looked questioningly at Castiel as he came out of the bathroom.

'Do I look fat?' he asked, cringing as he spoke, 'Fuck, I sound like a woman. Well, do I?'

Walking up behind Dean and sliding his hands around Dean's slightly expanding waist, Castiel smiled in the mirror.

'More of you for me to love,' he mumbled. An answer that seemed to amuse and annoy Dean at the same time as he slipped out of Castiel's embrace and ducked under the sheets. Noting the enduring low temperature in the bedroom, Castiel swiftly joined him.

'Dude, you're like the master of the backhanded compliment,' Dean complained while they huddled closer for warmth and comfort.

'I don't know what you mean,' Castiel confessed. Dean's body was still hot from the shower.

'Sure you don't,' Dean mocked. He wrapped his arms around Castiel and Castiel felt his breath hitch in his throat. Dean's touch invariably had that effect on him. Still, after all these years.

'Happy new year, Dean.'

'Happy new year, Cas.'

(***)

Castiel woke up with Dean between his legs, very gently prodding his entrance. Drowsily, he spread his legs further to grant Dean better access. Without a pause, Dean slid inside and filled him up. Castiel could think of no better way to start the new year than by making love to Dean. He groaned softly and Dean covered his mouth with his lips. Practised as they were, their rhythm increased slowly until they shuddered to a climax in each other's arms.

It was much slower than Dean usually liked it. Over the years they had become attuned to each other's desires and Dean's favourite remained a quick and rough tumble, preferably without a risk of getting caught. Castiel was less private and more patient and liked to draw out the foreplay until Dean went crazy.

'What was that for?' Castiel asked, nearly breathless.

'Because I love you. And to remind you why you should come back,' Dean smiled. It was still dark, but Castiel found Dean's mouth without any trouble. They kissed for a while. It was over much too soon to Castiel's liking, but he had to pack and shower and eat breakfast, so he reluctantly allowed Dean to break off the kiss.

Sam was already downstairs. There was something different about his hair, which Castiel immediately noticed. It was tousled, but _meticulously_ tousled. He pointed it out to Dean, who grinned and sarcastically mouthed 'wishful thinking' at him.

The drive over took approximately an hour. Sam drove, because Castiel was too easily distracted. Sam kept raking his hand through his hair, upsetting the studied nonchalance of his hair. His behaviour mystified Castiel, who didn't know what to make of it.

At Sarah's place, Sam rang the doorbell. Nervously, his hand reached for his hair, but the door opened before he quite finished the gesture. He paused and studied Sarah. Castiel did the same. Sarah was pretty. Her hair was long and dark. Her lips were plumb and red. She didn't even notice him, until he cleared his throat. Sam seemed to wake up too.

'Sarah, this is Castiel. He's Dean's boyfriend,' Sam said. Sarah shook Castiel's hand. It was a firm handshake. She smiled brightly at him and said it was nice to meet him, but afterwards she immediately focused her attention on Sam again. A raised eyebrow was the only indication she gave of being either surprised that Castiel was there or of Dean's sexual orientation. As Castiel continued to feel superfluous, Sam and Sarah stared at each other some more.

Castiel was reminded of the first time he and Dean had met. There had been awe and distrust on both sides, but in a way it had also been a meeting of minds. Souls, Castiel liked to think. The same thing seemed to be happening now. He might be projecting though. After all, this was not the first time Sam and Sarah met and his meeting with Dean had technically also not been their first.

Yet, _something_ was obviously occurring. Sam was scratching his neck, uncharacteristically shy and Sarah had a faint, amused smile on her lips. Suddenly, a young girl with striking red hair and a freckled nose appeared behind Sarah and nudged her.

'This is my daughter Hannah. Hannah, this is Sam and this is Castiel,' Sarah introduced them. Hannah politely shook Sam's hand and also took Castiel's hand. She frowned at him.

'You're an angel,' Hannah said. Startled, Sam and Castiel exchanged a glance. Sarah was nonplussed by her daughter's announcement.

'The angel of Thursday. Your name,' Hannah clarified. She was still holding Castiel's hand. It was rather different from shaking hands with Rose or Amy. There was an entire personality behind her handshake and her voice. Castiel estimated she was maybe fifteen years old. A person nearly formed, whereas Rose and Amy were just starting to become people with separate personality traits.

'Yes, I know,' he said as he gently extricated his hand. Did young people usually know the names of obscure angels? This would undoubtedly be the point where Dean would have asked Hannah to show him his room, to give Sam and Sarah a few minutes to themselves, but Castiel felt a bit rattled.

'It's a cool name. Mom, can I show Castiel his room?' she asked. Sarah consented. She was probably glad to have a little privacy. Castiel, clutching his bag, followed Hannah up the stairs. Dean hadn't mentioned Sarah's daughter. Perhaps he didn't think she was relevant in his matchmaking scheme.

'You have a strange voice,' was Hannah's next observation.

'Do I?' Castiel asked, amazed. He knew his voice was gravelly. Dean found it sexy. He had never realised that his voice might be unusual or abnormal.

'Yes. Do you do it on purpose?'

'No, it's just my voice.'

'Well, it's very strange,' Hannah repeated, turning around to appraise him. Castiel was used to Sam's daughters blurting things out. Apparently, it was considered cute in children. However, he often inadvertently did that too and past a certain age it was mostly thought embarrassing.

'I'm sorry,' Hannah quietly said as she saw his confused face, 'My directness is becoming less charming and more irritating as I grow older.'

Bemused, Castiel shook his head, but she had already resumed her ascent. On the landing, she opened the first door to her right. He went inside. The room was bright and smelled fresh. Recently cleaned, Castiel guessed. He placed his suitcase on the newly made bed and started to unpack to give Sarah and Sam a little more time together. With no idea of how long they would stay, he had packed for a week. Hannah lingered in the doorway and watched as he filled a drawer with his clothes. He had taken the copy of _Hamlet_, because it smelled of Dean.

'You like Hamlet?' Hannah inquired. I like how thinking about Hamlet makes me think about Dean, he thought. It made him think about Dean taking care of him after he had been attacked. His head in Dean's lap, Dean stroking his hair. Sadly, he would probably end up sleeping with the book next to him. None of that was an appropriate answer.

'He was an epic waffler,' he stammered. She seemed to ponder his assessment and nodded.

'Yes, he was, wasn't he?'

When he was finished, Hannah was still watching him. She showed him her own room upon his request. It was filled with books. One giant bookcase stuffed with them covered one wall of the room and on her nightstand and desk stacks of books threatened to topple over.

'They like each other, don't they?' she asked. It sounded neither sad nor happy. Rather resigned.

'Yes, they do.'

(***)

During the first few days, Castiel discovered he wasn't needed to help Sam with their actual business. Sarah was adamant that she would help. All that was required of Castiel was to keep Hannah out of the way, while they discussed vampire lore and possible places where the nest may be hidden.

They talked about books and about Dean and Rose and Amy and Bobby. Hannah's curiosity rivalled Castiel's. On the fourth day of their visit, Castiel realised he really liked Hannah. Spending time in her company wasn't a chore; it was nice. It was a strange feeling to like someone again. He hadn't allowed himself to like anyone since Miranda had died.

On the fifth day, a wealthy man from the Netherlands came over to look at an antique chest that Sarah had procured for her auction house. She had inherited the business from her father when he had died. Sam and Hannah were off doing the grocery shopping together, though Hannah had seemed equal measures bored and apprehensive at the prospect.

The man's English was mangled at best. He structured his sentences in ways that made it increasingly difficult to decipher his meaning and his Dutch accent only made matters worse. Castiel came upon them and saw how Sarah struggled to understand him, so he stepped in and briefly acted as interpreter. After the man had bought the chest and had gone, Sarah thanked him.

'Do you speak a lot of languages?' she asked him.

'Yes,' he answered truthfully. It made him think about his lack of employment and how Dean and he had been forced to quit the courses they had been taking when the bar had burned down and Miranda had died. For a long time now they had been living off the money of the sale of Bobby's house and business and later also partly off Sam's pay check as a public defence attorney. Dean had applied for jobs, but he had virtually no schooling. Castiel did have – fake – diplomas, but all his potential employers were uncomfortable in his presence or they thought he was a little off.

It was the way he acted. It wasn't entirely normal, no matter how hard he tried. He was always a tad too honest.

'I know someone who could use an interpreter. Would you be interested in that?'

He nodded. Sarah sat down at the kitchen table and scrutinised him. It was unclear to Castiel how much Sam had told her about his origins, but like Hannah Sarah seemed to sense that something about him was different. Contrary to most people, however, Hannah and Sarah took his weirdness in stride. In fact, Castiel suspected Hannah liked him more, because of it.

'You've earned the seal of approval from Hannah, but I'm not so sure about Sam,' Sarah confided. She sounded slightly worried. Thinking of how to phrase what he wanted to convey, Castiel sat down too.

'That's different. Hannah can see that Sam likes you,' he eventually explained.

'You don't like me?' she joked.

'Not in the same way.'

Castiel had seen the signs without knowing what they meant at first. There were stolen glances, averted gazes and downcast eyes. It was alien to him, mostly because Dean and he had not been coy or subtle. Castiel had always made it especially plain what he felt for Dean, even though he hadn't said anything for a long time.

Ultimately, he naturally started to realise what was happening. It was a continuation of their behaviour during the introductions when they arrived. They were rediscovering how they felt about each other and how alike they were. Castiel could see that. They were both quiet, inherently good and intellectual. Miranda had been good and very intelligent too, but she had been much more boisterous and even abrasive at times. Rather like Dean. Hannah noticed Sam and Sarah's prolonged circling of each other too.

After the meal was over, Sam and Sarah went off to locate the vampires' nest and Castiel was left with a brooding Hannah. They were on the couch in the living room with the TV on, but neither was watching. Castiel thought about Dean. It had been almost a week and he missed him. His body, his wit, his Deanness. They had talked on the phone, but this somehow this only made him long for Dean even more.

'How's Dean? Is he nice?' Hannah suddenly asked.

'Sometimes,' he admitted. She stared at him. It was as if she was constructing a picture of Dean or Dean and him together in her head.

'I am nice sometimes too. And Rose and Amy?' she continued. This was a significant conversation, Castiel knew, but he had little idea of how to conduct it properly.

'They're nice most of the time. You're thinking about adopting us?'

It was a serious question and Hannah treated as such. It was also a stupid question, because surely children couldn't adopt people? If Dean's ridiculous plan that wasn't a plan was going to work, however, Hannah would become part of Sam and Dean's family. A family that had also accepted Castiel into its midst. A family that made him feel like he belonged and had given him a new home. Perhaps this was what Hannah was looking for.

'I am seriously considering it,' she answered and giggled.

(***)

On the seventh day away from Dean, Castiel woke up because something was digging into the side of his face. It was a sharp corner of _Hamlet_front cover. He put aside the book and rubbed at his cheek. In the bathroom mirror, he saw that a red crease was the result of him sleeping with a book.

The vampires had been taken care of a day before, but Sam had not mentioned leaving yet. Castiel heard in his voice that he missed Amy and Rose whenever he spoke to them on the phone, but still they stayed. Wanting to go back home to Dean, but not wanting to hinder whatever Sam was doing, Castiel had not said anything about leaving either.

Softly, he descended the stairs. As he was about to enter the kitchen, a small hand pulled him back.

'Look,' Hannah whispered. Castiel peeked into the kitchen, where Sam and Sarah were tentatively leaning closer and then, kissing. Hannah beamed at him and Castiel smiled back. Now they could go home.

'Vampires, huh?' Hannah asked and added in a rush, 'That's awesome. I've got all five seasons of Angel, you know.'

(***)

Castiel ran into the house. He had allowed Rose and Amy a hug and Bobby a 'welcome back,' but there was only one person he wanted to see.

'Dean?'

'Upstairs,' that wonderful, familiar voice answered. He took the stairs three steps at a time, losing his balance, but managing to grab hold of the railing. Panting, he entered their bedroom, but Dean was nowhere to be seen.

'Dean?'

Suddenly, the door closed behind him and startled he turned around only to be swung around again and pushed towards the door. Dean's hands were immediately underneath his sweater and his lips were being forced open by a warm tongue. Frantically, Dean rubbed his body against him. There was desperation to Dean's lust. That had not been there before. Not even the first time when Dean had acted out of anger.

Castiel wanted to say something. He wanted to tell Dean how much he had missed him. He wanted to look at Dean and see if he remembered everything correctly. The maddening green-brown colour of his eyes, every line of his body, his spiky hair. A week was a long time to be away from the man you loved. Castiel didn't think they had been separated for that long since they had become a couple.

'God, I love you,' Dean mumbled into his mouth, not giving him any chance to speak too. His hands were everywhere and his mouth never left Castiel's. Dean's closeness dictated his face was a blur. There were no distinctive features to focus on or revel in. There was only the taste of hard liquor on his tongue and the rough touch as Dean's fingers scaled every possible area of Castiel's body.

Their hardness pressed against each other and they moved in unison. They didn't even remove their clothes for their feverish lovemaking. Dean buried his face in Castiel's neck and as Castiel came he could have sworn it was Dean who cried out. His throat felt wet, which must have been sweat because Dean didn't cry. Not when Miranda had died and definitely not during or after sex. He wrapped his arms around Dean, because Dean embraced him tightly until Dean shivered once.

Gently, Castiel held Dean away from him. Dean's eyes were not red or anything indicative of crying, and he pressed a quick, soft kiss to Castiel's lips. Before Castiel could respond, Dean moved away. His smile was awkward, but that was not what worried Castiel.

It was barely noon; what was Dean doing drinking? And he looked awful. There were dark circles under his eyes and he had lost weight. Castiel hoped this wasn't a reaction to his remark about Dean's waist. He honestly did like Dean's changing body. He would like Dean whatever he looked like, because he was Dean.

'Dean, what...'

'What with Sam and the girls and Bobby and well...everything, I know I don't say it enough, but you're it. I could never do what Sam did. If you... I couldn't pick myself up and try again. There'd be no second or third chances for me. You're my one fucking chance. You're it. I lied to Sam when I said the one is bullshit, because damn it, you're it for me,' Dean said.

'I love you too,' Castiel said. Could this all be because they had been apart? Had Dean missed him that much? They were long past the time when Dean couldn't say 'I love you.' Castiel had reconciled himself to the reality that in their relationship he would probably always be the one who marvelled at the depth of the love he felt for Dean. He would be the one to make the little sacrifices and romantic gestures and embarrass them in front of other people for the majority of the time. Dean was simply less public and less intense about his affection, but it was definitely there.

After a shared shower and more shared intimacies, Castiel went downstairs. Bobby was in the living room, sipping scotch and looking incredibly satisfied. Taking a seat next to him on the couch, Castiel looked around the room. Everything was the same. Everything _looked_ the same.

'Did something happen while I was away?' he asked. He should really stop reading women's magazines, because now all sorts of scenarios were flitting through his mind. If your boyfriend was suddenly extra nice and affectionate and vocal about his love, sometimes that meant that he had done something. Cheated on you. However, Castiel knew that Dean wouldn't do that.

'No. Why?' Bobby asked in return. Drops were sliding from Castiel's hair to his neck onto his back, because he hadn't dried his hair properly. Dean thought he looked sexier with wet hair, so Castiel had fallen into the habit of keeping it almost dripping wet after a shower. Now, while the drops soaked his sweater, the sensation made him feel uneasy.

'Because Dean is acting as if I've been away for years instead of a week,' he finally answered. Bobby sighed and nodded and looked Castiel over, carefully.

'He's missed you, that's all. Boy can barely function when you're not around.'

2024

It was the mist again. The dense mist around him left his hair and exposed skin wet with tiny drops of water. If he stretched his hand out before him and wiggled his fingers he couldn't see the movement. Close to the ground, the mist was less thick and he could see his feet and the small square of grass on which he was standing.

The familiar smell lingered in the air. Sometimes it was barely detectable and sometimes it was so strong that he had trouble breathing. It was the smell of rotting algae. The typical smell of the river during a long, hot summer. It was the only thing with him in his little circle of visibility. The rest was outside. The fog acted as a protective barrier against sights and sounds.

It was a heavy fog. A fog that seemed to slow down time. It cloaked him. He was suspended in time and space. The house could be two steps away or the river could be two steps away. He didn't know. He couldn't see anything. He couldn't hear anything.

The dream was supposed to be frightening, Castiel thought, but it never was. Not even when he fell into the river. Not even when he found the house and no one was inside. Not even when he just kept walking, not finding anything. Because it was a dream and he knew it was a dream.

As far as he was concerned it was a rather pointless dream. There were times that he contemplated sitting down and staying in place, since the dream was a sort of symbolic exercise in being lost and not finding whatever it is you are looking for. No matter how hard he tried, he wouldn't find Dean in the dream. The dream had recurred often enough for Castiel to know that.

Still, he didn't like how cold he felt. It was unpleasant. So, he walked, hoping for the dream to segue into something more productive. He tried not to shiver, because that somehow made him feel colder.

'Cas.'

The soft call drifted towards him. At first he thought he was imagining it, but he kept hearing it. Growing louder and more panicked. He recognised Dean's voice. This had never happened before. The dream was always eerily silent and he never encountered anyone. Least of all Dean.

'Cas!'

Now Castiel was starting to feel scared. If Dean needed him, he wanted to be there for him. Despite not being able to see anything, he began to run towards the sound. Reminding himself that it was a dream made no difference. He felt the ground disappear beneath his feet and fell forwards into the river. Its icy water enveloped him and he woke up, gasping in shock.

The sheets weighed him down, like the water and for a second he was disorientated and unsure of his surroundings.

'Cas.'

Castiel turned to his left and felt Dean's body. It was cold to the touch. As his eyes adjusted to the light, Dean moaned again. He shook Dean.

'Dean, wake up. You're having a nightmare. Wake up.'

The air in the room was stifling. Sometime during the night, the power must have failed, because Castiel could see and hear nothing. Not the glowing numbers on the alarm clock. Not the soft whirring of the air conditioning or the louder, labouring fan on the ceiling above the bed. The dreaded human silence had returned. It was as if he was still dreaming, except now darkness had replaced the white haze.

Dean sat up straight. It was disconcerting to feel how cool his skin felt, because the room was so warm. Castiel was sweating and pushed the sheets away. This did nothing to dispel the heat.

'You're alright. It was a dream and I'm right here,' Castiel whispered. As his vision grew accustomed to the darkness, he could see the whites of Dean's eyes.

'Plane crash,' Dean whispered, without Castiel's prompting. It was a lie, but Castiel didn't press. Relieved to be awake and safe, Castiel lay back down and pulled Dean with him. Dean never told him what his nightmares were about. That was fine. Castiel realised his own desire to share literally everything wasn't exactly considered healthy by humans. If Dean wanted to keep that small, insignificant part of his life to himself, that was fine. Except, of course, that Dean's readiness to lie about the subject of his dreams meant that it wasn't insignificant. Yet, it was fine.

The tension of the impending June wedding the day after tomorrow was getting to them both. Instead of Sarah being the bridezilla, it was Sam who was behaving erratic and mean. The day before, he had chewed out Dean for talking to the wedding planner about the reception in the garden, when all Dean had done was offer her coffee. When Castiel had arrived home from work, he had witnessed the entire exchange and when he had dared to intervene Sam had torn into him. Afterwards, the younger Winchester had apologised profusely, but the atmosphere between everyone remained strained.

However, it was not the wedding Sam was worried about. Sarah was feeling a little out of sorts lately. Sam had talked about her lack of appetite, always followed by bouts of excessive eating. Castiel's very own theory was that Sarah might be pregnant. He had consulted some of Miranda's medical books. All signs pointed towards a pregnancy, but Dean had told him to keep quiet and let them figure it out on their own.

'Did you know that Hannah is contemplating a name change?' Castiel said, to break the silence. He was wide awake now, so they might as well talk.

'She wants to be a Winchester?' Dean asked. Hannah was excited about the wedding and about officially becoming Rose and Amy's sister. Even though Sam and the girls had moved into Sarah's house a few months ago, Castiel frequently came home to find Hannah sitting on the pier. She'd call him uncle Cas, which he enjoyed, and they'd talk about his job and her school.

Hannah's father was still very much in the picture, but Hannah liked Sam immensely. She thought Dean was great and she had even taken a shine to Bobby, though his gruffness also scared her a little. Dean said that Sarah and Sam's relationship was pretty much perfect. No evil stepmother or stepsisters in their story. The thing that had at first attracted Hannah's attention was their demon hunting history. Castiel could talk about those days for hours and she would never grow bored. Unbeknownst to her mother, Castiel had allowed her to accompany him on a Wendigo hunt once.

It had been her sixteenth birthday and she had demanded it. After that her desire to hunt had been permanently satisfied and she had focused on the mythology of the creatures they hunted.

'I think she likes the idea of a family where half the members aren't even related to each other,' Castiel explained after a moment of hesitation. What, after all, was Bobby to them all? What was _he_ to Dean? The question made his stomach contract and he twisted his neck to look at Dean. His lover was staring at the ceiling. Their sides were touching. Dean's cold and his hot.

'And you said it was a stupid plan to send Sam to Sarah,' Dean boasted.

'I didn't say it was stupid; I said it wasn't a plan,' Castiel corrected him. Dean smirked in the darkness and gathered Castiel closer to him for a kiss. Their lips barely connected.

'Well, whatever it was, it worked,' he mumbled as he turned around and went to sleep.

2025

Castiel slammed the door, not looking over his shoulder to see whether Dean was anywhere near it, which he immediately regretted. Though his remorse quickly faded when Dean charged through the door and he was unhurt.

'Should I laugh it off? Is that what you want?' Dean asked.

'I don't want anything. You're the one who brought it up.'

Castiel hated feeling like this. He hated being mad at Dean. He hated wanting to take a swing at Dean. However, Dean was currently making it very difficult to feel different.

'You said it was a miracle,' Dean said in an accusing tone.

'Well, it is. You made a giant leap to my mistake, because that's what you wanted to do. Rory has nothing to do with it,' Castiel responded angrily. He couldn't believe they were having this fight again, especially not after Rory had been born mere hours ago. He wasn't being sentimental. Childbirth was a miracle; Sarah agreed with him. People had just gotten used to it. It had become an ordinary miracle. At least, the mother and father of the baby could still appreciate how special it was: Sarah and Sam were over the moon about the arrival of their son.

'Gods perform miracles; you declared yourself God. That's not a leap!' Dean yelled. No matter what Dean said about having forgiven him, he certainly wasted no opportunity to remind Castiel of that one fatal mistake. Farfetched though the opportunity may be. Grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge, Castiel bounded up the stairs.

'Just shut up about it, Dean,' he muttered. He was barely at the top when Dean came up behind him and shoved him. Panting furiously, Castiel righted himself and unscrewed the cap. Dean leaned against the wall. Trying to calm himself, Castiel took a swig, but Dean slapped the bottle out of his hand. For a frightening second, Castiel seriously contemplated pushing him down the stairs.

'I guess we need to talk about this,' he said instead. Dean nodded.

'Talking doesn't seem to do much good, however. We keep having this talk and you keep holding it against me,' Castiel continued.

'So, what do we do?' Dean asked.

'Why don't we fuck?'

Dean flinched as the use of the uncharacteristically crude word. Castiel had always preferred the term 'making love.' That was what sex was to him: a means of showing Dean how much he loved him. But he was beginning to understand that for Dean it was sometimes nothing more than the physical act.

Castiel shoved Dean against the wall. Dean struggled, but somewhere along the way the balance of power had shifted and Castiel was now able to restrain him. He pinned the Winchester's arms to the wall and forced his chest against Dean's back.

'Stop,' Dean demanded, but Castiel didn't listen. Dean never listened to him either. How many times had he apologised? How many years had he been there for Dean to make up for that moment? And it hadn't been entirely his fault to begin with. Dean's shirt had slid down to reveal part of his right shoulder and Castiel bit down on the exposed skin. With his face pressed against the wall, Dean growled in pain and anger and tried to move back. The movement only served to excite Castiel further.

His arousal amazed him. He licked the bite marks, until Dean's growl turned into a needy moan and, instead of resisting, Dean leaned back into Castiel's tongue strokes. Without any regard for what Dean was feeling, Castiel pulled down their trousers and thrust into Dean. Slamming his hips against him, while Dean made wounded, animal-like noises, Castiel found a quick release.

As he dressed, Castiel was appalled to see the damage he had done. Not only the outline of his teeth in the area between shoulder and neck, close to his cherished collarbones, but also the forming bruises on Dean's hips.

'Wow, that was...' Dean exclaimed and to Castiel's astonishment he sighed with obvious satisfaction. Dean had..._liked_ that? Confused, Castiel looked at him. He didn't know what he had expected or what he wanted. Did he want Dean to feel violated? Wasn't this reaction better?

Dean liked it rough; yes, that was true. It didn't need to be full of meaning for Dean. It didn't need to be tender and a million other things Castiel liked. Yet, what they had just done had not been far removed from rape. It had been a combination of rage and wanting to hurt Dean. Nothing to do with love and as a consequence it meant nothing. Absolutely nothing. It left Castiel feeling empty.

2026

'Dan of Inequity,' the sign read. Danny thought it was merely a clever way of incorporating his name into the name of the bar, but Castiel knew it was allusion to the night Dean had taken him to a sinful place to lose his virginity. Throughout it all, Castiel had wanted to say that the only person he wanted to lose his virginity to was Dean, but he had thought about Atropos and kept his mouth shut.

If it had been up to Castiel, they would have used the money they had saved up to take courses at the university again, but he had noticed that, apart from the odd jobs Dean sometimes got, Dean was feeling rather useless. So, after Bobby had waved away an offer to pay him back, Castiel had suggested they pool their resources together with Danny and open a new bar.

It was important to feel needed and to be busy, Castiel had experienced. He liked his own job and he wanted Dean to have the same satisfied feeling at the end of a work day.

The drinks were free, because it was the opening night and the bar was packed. Danny's thundering laugh came from the back office, which was also crowded. Despite it being December, the place was hot and stuffy with the body heat of so many people. Dean was behind the bar, pouring drinks and looking better than he had done in ages.

His face shone and when their eyes connected through the throng of customers, he winked at Castiel. Nonetheless, Castiel felt ill at ease. The enormous din was fine, the people were fine, even when they kept bumping into him and mumbling inaudible apologies. He wasn't thinking about the time the bar burned down. Well, he thought about that briefly, but that wasn't what was causing his unease.

It was a feeling. Not of impending doom. Just a little, niggling feeling that everything wasn't as it was supposed to be. He didn't _belong_. It wasn't the bar. It wasn't about not belonging in a bar. He belonged wherever Dean was. Dean was in a bar, thus, he should be too. Not all the time, though. He had his own work, which he enjoyed, so he couldn't be with Dean all the time. Except right now he was and everything felt wrong.

He was drunk. His hands; human. His feelings; human. He belonged a long, long way from here. Swaying a little as he stood up, he noticed Dean's nod. He looked over at a neatly dressed couple. They were standing hesitantly by the pool table. Castiel shook his head, but Dean nodded again, so Castiel walked over. He didn't even have to fake his intoxication as he bumped into several people on his way to the table.

'Fancy a game?' he slurred. That was exaggerated. The man accepted eagerly and proposed to play for money. Castiel looked over at Dean and received an encouraging nod. Slipping into the routine, Castiel completely fumbled the first game. The triumphant face of the man as Castiel handed over the cash made him feel miserable and he was about to slink back to the bar when Dean came up behind him.

'You have to give him a chance to win back his money. Come on, another game,' Dean prompted as he placed a steadying hand on Castiel's shoulder. After a brief exchange with his female companion, the man acquiesced and doubled the stakes. The alcohol in his system was beginning to make Castiel sad. This eventually always happened. It started out fun and then suddenly his mood swung 180 degrees and he was overly pensive and melancholic. He shook off Dean's hand and easily won the game.

Without protesting, the man paid him, which made Castiel feel worse. It wasn't even necessary. It wasn't necessary at all. Not like with Sam's college money.

(***)

'Why did you do it if you didn't want to?' Dean asked. On their way home, Castiel had said that the hustling had made him feel unpleasant and Dean had reacted with amazement. Apparently, it was all the good old days to him. The heater was fogging up the windows of the car and Dean wiped at the windshield with a dirty cloth.

'I did it to make you happy, but you're not,' Castiel answered. The last part barely registered with either of them at first. Castiel hadn't realised until he said it that it was true. Dean wasn't happy. Throwing the cloth onto the backseat, Dean didn't react to his perceived unhappiness, as if it was a foregone conclusion. He squinted at the road, before turning slightly to look at Castiel.

'What about your happiness? Don't you think about that?'

He didn't. Not really. He had become human for Dean. He had wanted to stay – he had _desperately_ wanted to stay – but if Dean hadn't asked him, he wouldn't have stayed. It was a thing he did for Dean; because Dean wanted it. Ninety-nine percent of the things he did, he did for Dean, and with the one percent left he asked himself whether what he wanted didn't affect Dean negatively.

'I figured, since I try to make you happy, you'd do the same for me,' Castiel admitted in a defeated tone. Dean inhaled and exhaled slowly. He looked wrecked. It wasn't the opening of the bar or the late hour or the conversation they were having. Castiel was remarkably confident that it was a feeling. A feeling Dean had been having for a long time and that he didn't want to tell Castiel about, so Castiel hadn't asked.

'Cas...'

'Forget it.'

2027

Infomercials blared in the background. Bobby was visiting Sam and Sarah. The rest of the house was silent. It was just the sound of the TV and some woman going on and on about shoes that were good for your back.

They were kissing. All the familiar moves. Dean nibbled on his bottom lip and Castiel moaned involuntarily. Neither man's heart was in it. Castiel remembered Dean saying that he had his heart and pleading with him not to hurt him. Well, who was hurting who now? Dean had his heart too. Not that Dean cared. Then Castiel noticed that Dean tilted his head to be able to watch the TV and Castiel pushed him away.

'You were watching the infomercial while we were kissing,' Castiel stated. He was surprised. Not because of the lack of attention, but because of the choice of distraction. Dean didn't like infomercials. There were still times when Castiel couldn't resist a bargain and it would invariably end up gathering dust in a closet. His naivety regarding commercials exasperated Dean.

'So?'

'That's disrespectful.'

Dean glanced at him, before looking at the screen again. There was a flicker of something in his eyes that Castiel couldn't decipher.

'It's what you're supposed to do,' Dean shrugged. He sat down on the couch and stretched his arm to reach for the remote, but Castiel blocked his path. Everyone has a breaking point and this was Castiel's.

Dean's secrecy regarding his nightmares was fine. Dean's ability to have sex without any feelings involved was fine. Dean's tendency to pick fights was fine. Dean's disregard for Castiel's happiness was fine. But he could at least pay attention to him when they were kissing or talking.

'Dean, I feel that I give you everything...'

'I wish you'd stop doing that,' Dean sighed and craned his neck to look past Castiel at the screen. Calmly, Castiel turned off the TV and continued.

'...and I get little in return. The more I give the less I get with you. You can't concentrate on me when we kiss. Why do you have to watch TV?' he asked.

'Because that's what you're supposed to do. I mean, we've been together for fifteen years now? Things fade. Except we're still burning,' Dean said flatly with a dismissive flick of his wrist. Castiel didn't understand what he was hearing. It seemed to him that Dean was saying several things at once and Castiel couldn't select the part that was important.

'Burning? I don't...' he began, but Dean cut him off.

'That's why I try to watch TV when we kiss, because that's what people do after so long a time together. I love you, but that's just what you're supposed to do,' Dean explained. His gaze was intense and Castiel felt as if the fact that Dean kept repeating what you are 'supposed to do' meant something. But what?

There were a lot of things that Castiel had difficulties with: grieving, being funny, and generally behaving like a normal human being. But _not_ with loving Dean. That had come to him naturally. He might not understand his feelings at times, but they had always been there and as they grew stronger he had known how to handle them. Was Dean now telling him that he had not been doing it as it was supposed to be done? Did he love Dean wrong?

The suggestion angered him. At least he wasn't hurting Dean. He wasn't the one creating the distance between them and keeping secrets and acting aloof. That was all Dean.

'I know you love me. But I can see that you don't like it. You don't like that you love me. I love that I love you. It's the best thing I've ever done. If it was a thing I could choose, I would choose to love you. You wouldn't. You said you want Sam to have what we have, but you don't even want it,' Castiel asserted. Dean just sat there, disinterested, and Castiel knew this conversation was accomplishing nothing. It was eerily similar to the fight they kept having about when he had declared himself God.

They were going round in circles. Talking, but not communicating. Touching, but not connecting. As he prepared to exit the room, Dean grabbed his arm. Surprised, Castiel swivelled round to catch a glimpse of panic in Dean's eyes and Dean immediately released his arm.

'Please stay,' Dean whispered, not looking at him. The realisation hit Castiel that Dean had thought he wasn't only leaving the room.

'Of course I'm not leaving. Dean, you can be so obtuse. That is why you treat me the way you do; you know I won't leave. There is no one but you for me. I'm staying. This love might very well be my downfall, but I'm sticking with you. I'm in. Forever,' Castiel comforted him.

The right words in response to that would have been 'I'm in too' or perhaps 'I'll treat you better' or even 'Thank you.' Dean didn't utter any of those responses.

'I love you,' he said. He hung his head in shame, still refusing to look up at Castiel. Castiel's fingers twitched and when he peered down at his hands he was amazed to discover they had formed into fists. He wanted to hit Dean. The feeling was worse than when he felt this violent urge during their more physical fights, because then Dean usually provoked it. It was an entirely different matter to want to hit Dean after he had seconds ago told him he loved him. With difficulty, he unfurled his fingers.

'It doesn't matter, because it isn't the right kind of love. Don't you understand? Not if you hurt me and make me feel miserable. It's no use if you keep saying it all the time. I don't doubt that you love me; you just don't _act_ as if you do.'

Dean remained staring at the ground and he was shivering, which was ridiculous. It was the middle of August and it was warm. Castiel looked at the man he loved more than anything in the world with irritation. There was something else too. Something he had not ever felt when he looked at Dean. Disgust.

'I love you,' Dean repeated.

'Love's a fucking verb!' Castiel shouted. Startled, Dean raised his head and gazed at him. His lips trembled and he shook his head as if to deny what Castiel had said. A slight tightening of his jaw was perceptible. He blinked rapidly.

Dean was unravelling before his very eyes. He simply broke down. To Castiel it was like seeing his world come undone. Dean looked at him, almost viciously, and swallowed hard, pressing his lips together.

'It isn't supposed to feel like this.'

As Castiel sat down next to him on the couch, Dean turned away from him and brushed his sleeve across his face.

'You don't realise how much I need you. I didn't either until you spent that week with Sam at Sarah's,' he confessed. His voice was hoarse and the feeling he expressed raw. Castiel listened.

'I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep; all I thought about was you. It took me by surprise. Sure, I had felt like that. It usually feels like that in the beginning of a relationship. It's intense, but that shit fades, because it is exhausting. Except that, more than ten years into loving you, I was living it. It was hell. Seriously Cas, if I had to choose between a week in hell and a week without you I wouldn't know what to choose. I'd have to think long and hard about it.'

A grimace appeared on Dean's face. They both knew hell and Dean wouldn't refer to it lightly.

'Why didn't you tell me?' Castiel softly asked. Staring straight into his eyes, Dean sighed.

'To have you come out and say, 'oh, that's how it has always been for me when we are apart' and make me feel like an even bigger dick?'

'I wouldn't have...'

'Yes, you would have,' Dean insisted, 'You always loved me more. I couldn't have you find out that I once loved you in a healthier, non-dysfunctional way. _Less_.'

'It hurts,' Castiel attempted and relieved, Dean nodded. They embraced and kissed. Dean was still shaking with emotion as they broke apart. He grabbed Castiel's shoulders and squeezed so tightly that his nails dug into Castiel's skin. Castiel waited as a genuine smile broke through on Dean's face.

'Yes, it hurts, but I want it. I might not like how it feels sometimes, but you're worth it. Thanks for putting up with my bullshit. Cas, I know I've been a dick, but I'm in it for the long haul and I promise to be better. Will you marry me?'


	14. These girls

**Chapter 14: These girls**

2028-2032

2028

Hannah was accepted into the University of South Dakota Arts and Sciences programme. Dean and Castiel accompanied her on a tour around the campus and this brief visit resulted in them enrolling again.

2029

'Dad says you sometimes had to pretend to be FBI agents,' Amy said. Dean nodded while he held the punching bag. He winked at her, which earned him a disapproving snort from Rose.

'Which is illegal, by the way,' Rose interjected. The two girls glared at each other. Undoubtedly, Amy was visualising her sister's face on the punching bag. Rose, meanwhile, repeated Castiel's uppercut movement rather more viciously than was necessary.

'Whatever. Still cool,' Amy decided.

'I'm going to be a real FBI agent,' Rose announced before assuming a more defensive position. Courageously, Castiel tried out a few mock punches. She blocked them without any trouble. Castiel wondered whether they had really trained her this well or whether he was getting old and slow.

'You're smart enough,' Dean agreed. Rose relaxed and Amy straightened up. They were both tall for their age. Sam's daughters all the way.

'I'm going to be an FBI agent too,' Amy exclaimed. To Dean's horror, he recognised the familiar flicker of annoyance that lit up Rose's eyes. He glanced at Castiel, who had also spotted it.

'Why do you always have to copy everything I do?' Rose asked, crossing her arms.

'Why do you always have to copy everything I do?' Amy mimicked, crossing her arms too.

'Cas, tell Amy to stop it!' Rose yelled.

'Cas, tell Rose to stop it!' Amy shouted. She smugly cocked her head at Rose, who cursed and flew at her. This was one of the disadvantages of teaching them how to fight: now they knew how to fight. It was never just hair pulling, ineffectual slapping and comically kicking at each other's ankles when Amy and Rose fought. So, Dean and Castiel quickly pulled them apart before any teeth were knocked out or any bones were broken.

'Come on. Don't make me get your father,' Castiel warned. He sounded very aware of the emptiness of his threat. The sisters looked at each other and grinned.

'We can take him.'

2030

Sarah entered the kitchen, trying not to witness the spectacle that was Castiel and Dean pawing at each other.

'Could you two not be inappropriate in other people's homes for a change?'

Still, she couldn't fail to notice the dark writing on Dean's lower back.

'Hey, you didn't tell me you'd gotten a new tattoo! What does it say?'

'Good things do happen; it's Aramaic' Castiel recited. He looked up at Dean and smiled with such obvious joy that Sarah quickly grabbed the plates and cutlery, because it was clear what was going to happen.

'You're living proof of that. You happened to me and it was awesome,' Dean gushed. Hurrying, Sarah pushed past them.

'Gross. Honestly, your grope fest was less nauseating,' she mumbled. Words she immediately regretted as the two men started to slowly devour each other.

2031

It was during her study that Hannah met Ben, Lisa's son, and fell in love with him. He was a professor at USD, which for Dean confirmed once and for all that Ben was definitely not his son.

2032

'This is not some coming of age thing, Dean.'

'Why not? It was for us.'

'And our childhood was _super_ fun!'

Dean thought that taking Amy and Rose demon hunting was a great present for their sixteenth birthday. Sam did not agree.


	15. Duet

**Chapter 15: Duet**

2033-2037

2033

By the river, the girls were double daring their brother to jump into the water too. Recognising that this wasn't such a good idea, since Rory couldn't swim yet, Sarah made her way over to them.

'This is the life, right?' Dean mused, to no one in particular. The other men nodded. The dying light was painting the sky orange. There was a nice warm breeze. The lawn was strewn with wet towels and striped drinking straws in every imaginable colour. The beer was cold. Amy and Rose hadn't argued once.

It was pretty much a perfect day.

'Come inside, Dean. I want to tell you something,' Castiel suggested. Blinking, Dean shaded his eyes against the summer sun and nodded. After downing the last of his beer, he followed Castiel into the house.

'I love you,' Dean said, before Castiel could say anything.

'How did you know I...?'

'Cause I love you, dude. And I always will.'

Castiel smiled like an idiot and ran up the stairs. Dean raced up the steps too, which caused his heart to flutter in a not entirely unpleasant manner. When he arrived in the bedroom, Castiel was huddled under the covers; his hair a hot mess.

'I love you too,' he whispered. He looked flushed and adorable. Dean slid in beside him and pulled him closer.

It was a perfect day.

2034

One day, after his morning jog, Castiel wandered into the kitchen. Dean was folding the laundry, but paused when he saw the dazed expression on Castiel's face.

'What's wrong?'

'One of the Jones' kids called me Mr. Winchester.'

'Missus? Those little bastards. Which one? Point her out to me.'

It was only now that Dean noticed that Castiel was looking inordinately pleased.

'Not missus; _Mr_ Winchester.'

'Okay. That's alright. Let's just pretend I wasn't going to knife a little girl to death.'

2035

The Fourth of July.

'I'd rather not risk it. Contrary to you, I do not relish the possibility of having my hand blow off,' Castiel explained. Dean looked at him as if he'd sprouted a second head.

'You don't?'

'No, I don't understand this tradition.'

'It's a guy thing.'

'I'm a guy.'

'Barely.'

2036

When Hannah used Dean and Castiel as an example of why she didn't see the point in marrying Ben, they were forced to reveal that they were, in fact, married and had been for almost nine years. When Hannah still wasn't convinced - thinking that Ben had only asked her because he thought it was what he was supposed to do - Castiel tried to explain his feelings about marriage.

'When you ask someone to marry you, what you're really saying is, 'I love you so much that I want to spend the rest of my life with you.' Isn't that the single most beautiful thing one person can say to another?'

2037

After much outrage following their marriage announcement, Dean and Castiel were persuaded (threatened, sabotaged, and blackmailed) by their family and friends into renewing their vows or, as Sam liked to call it, _having a_ _proper wedding._

Dean, looking ready to kill anyone who dared to refer to him as the bride, read this.

'I can sum up reasons why I love you, but that would be bullshit. This thing that we do: the living together, the running a business together, the taking care of each other, the reading together; I like that. It's very domestic and boring at times, but it's comfortable. And I think the fact that I don't want to do those things with anyone else; that might be love. Yes, I'm pretty sure that is love. That, even when we fight or when you're being annoying as hell or when you quote Hemingway at me, whom I hate, I can't think of anyone I'd rather be with. I'm a thousand times happier with you than I would be with anyone else. So, that's... love. Which my mind tells me I could share with someone else, but my heart only wants to share with you.'

Castiel, beaming at everyone, especially at Dean, didn't need a note. He knew his speech by heart.

'I thought I was created for the job I had before we met. Until you came along. You made me feel things that I hadn't felt before and you made me doubt. At first it was horrible to not be sure anymore. However, eventually I realised that doubt was good. Because... if you don't question what you believe, if you don't think about it, then it's not really believing at all. It's a mindless following of orders. It's worthless. So, I questioned and I started to believe again. I believed in you. You didn't make it easy. Countless times I doubted whether believing in you was the right thing to do, but at the end of the day I always did. Whether I began to love you because I believed in you or whether I believed in you because I loved you; I don't know. It is difficult to determine which came first. But I love you. For over thirty years I have loved you and I realise now that I was wrong. The only thing I was created for was the task of loving you. I'm much better at it and I like it much more than my old job.'


	16. Quiet

**Chapter 16: Quiet**

2038-2042

2038

Twenty years after Miranda's death, Dean and Castiel accompanied Sam to her grave. Afterwards, they drove to Palo Alto and visited another all too familiar cemetery.

2039

Sarah's business was booming, so Sam quit his job as State's Attorney and became a pro bono lawyer. His first clients: Dean and Castiel. They were charged with public indecency after being caught in the act in the USD library.

2040

Castiel attempted to determine who he loved. He couldn't ask Dean. That would defeat the purpose of the exercise.

Obviously, he loved Dean. He liked Sam and Hannah and Sarah and Amy and Rose and Rory and Ben and Lisa. He was fond of Bobby and Dan.

He loved Dean, because Dean was Dean. The ones Castiel liked were generally nice. While it was sometimes hard to love Dean, it was easy to love likeable people. Bobby and Dan, on the other hand, were not Dean and neither were they particularly likeable. Not at first, at least.

Nonetheless, Castiel thought he might love them. Love was weird.

2041

Amy and Rose, still locked in a never ending competition, achieved their career goals. They both became FBI agents. Somehow the sisters were made partners. They bickered and cursed their way through cases and were often mistaken for a lesbian couple.

2042

Bobby died. Dean didn't speak for a week. Sam cried for at least that long. Castiel tried hard to convince himself that it was not possible to feel the pain of others and finally had to conclude that what he was experiencing was own grief.


	17. I'll find a way

**Chapter 17: I'll find a way**

2043-2047

2043

'We're not spending five years in misery again. If something is bothering you, tell me,' Castiel harshly demanded. Dean hemmed and hawed and rubbed his neck and finally spoke up.

'It's about heaven. I'd like to not have heaven be like 50 First Dates or Click or any film starring Adam Sandler, really.'

'Is this about Bobby?'

'This is about heaven sucking. I want to be with you. Not stuck reliving a bunch of memories. But don't worry, I'll figure something out.'

2044

'I don't care for this getting older shit,' Dean muttered, squinting at his reflection in the mirror. Castiel jumped off the bed.

'That's because you look like a male model. We normal folks have much less to lose,' he elaborated. Dean smirked and turned around.

'_Normal_? You're kidding me, right? Like people don't stare after you,' Dean scoffed. He advanced slowly until Castiel was standing with his back against the wall.

'That is because I am considered strange, not because I am considered beautiful,' Castiel protested. Breathing softly, they moved against each other. Nothing happened. They waited ten seconds and then another ten seconds. Castiel could feel that Dean maybe needed a blue pill, but he also knew that for some reason Dean didn't like to take one of those. So, instead of allowing Dean to pull away, he wrapped his arms around Dean.

'I love you,' he said.

And there it was.

2045

'I want Castiel to come with me. He's least likely to embarrass me,' Hannah pleaded. Dean snorted.

'We're talking about the same guy?' he asked. In the end, Dean didn't mind if Castiel went with Hannah to the hospital. Castiel still thought that giving birth was something miraculous. Dean mostly thought that it was gross. Plus, it would give him more time to do research about heaven. It seemed that he was finally getting somewhere. He'd already talked about it with Castiel, but it would be easier to work on it without Mr. Sex-on-a-stick being near him.

2046

Proving once and for all that when it came to controlling his urges in public Dean would never learn his lesson, Dean took Castiel to the USD library and instigated something. Again.

'This seems like one of those places where if people complain about the hot guy on guy action, it's not because of the guy on guy part, but because we're ancient,' Dean said, looking through the racks at the busy students. Smiling, he opened the top button of his shirt and added, 'You want some ancient, yet hot action?'

'That's not really appropriate, Dean, especially since Hannah is a professor here now, but yes.'

As if he needed to ask. In a matter of seconds, Castiel's mouth was glued to Dean's collarbones. His tongue seared the skin, almost sanding it with its roughness. With his hands around Dean's throat, Castiel pushed him back against the gleaming spines of scientific journals. Trying to keep his moans to a minimum, Dean still couldn't manage to keep quiet as Castiel forced his knee between Dean's legs.

'Don't, ah, stop. _Fuck_. Fuck me.'

2047

The Impala stalled at the side of the road. Dean had it towed back to the house, where he worked on it with Sam, but it simply wouldn't start.

'It's an old car, Dean,' Sam said as he wiped the grease off his hands with an already dirty cloth.

'It's not the years; it's the mileage,' Dean quipped. Bobby would have been able to fix it, he thought, but he didn't say it. Instead, he handed Sam a beer.

'Okay, Indiana Jones.'


	18. Miles on a car

**Chapter 18: Miles on a car**

2052

Dean recognised the feeling. He had been having it a lot lately. He had gone to the doctor and she had basically said that he should act his age and take it easy. Now it was worse, though. Less clenching and more crushing. He steadied himself against the nearest tree. Castiel was immediately by his side.

'Dean?'

Hoping for a pause somewhere in between, Dean waited. When it finally came it felt so good. He kind of expected it to end soon, so he grimaced and spoke quickly.

'You know how, on a daily basis, you say shit that freaks me out? My turn. I think I'm having a heart attack.'

Sarah appeared behind them and whipped out her cell to call for an ambulance. Sam and Castiel helped Dean to a chair and sat him down. Everyone else just stood around looking concerned and shocked.

It was a stupid thing to think about while he was dying, but his timing really sucked. He couldn't just have quietly bit the dust. No, of course it had to be on poor Rory's wedding day. As if the guy wasn't already permanently overshadowed by his three sisters; two of whom were decorated FBI agents and a third one who had more degrees than Dean could count.

And there was the tightness again. Dean couldn't even think while it curled around his heart and took his breath away. He squeezed Castiel's hand so hard that he was afraid he was going to break it.

Suddenly, when a familiar face appeared in the crowd, a whole new kind of panic overtook him. Glasses: check. Blond hair in a pony tail: check. Sour face: check.

'Just me, right?' Dean mouthed during another merciful, but short breather. Atropos nodded. Grimacing, he braced himself for another burst of pain. He leaned back; comforted by the thought that the thing he had feared the most wasn't going to happen. He wouldn't have to watch Castiel die, because it looked like Dean would be the first to go.

Selfish? Sure. A huge fucking relief? Hell, yeah.

'You,' Sam hissed, singling her out too. He approached her, still mightily menacing for a guy in his late sixties.

'What are you doing here? Go away. Leave him alone.'

Unimpressed, she rolled her eyes. Still such a bitch. Amy and Rose were speculating who the stranger could be until Hannah told them that, judging by the description Castiel had given of her once upon a time, it was probably Atropos. It gave Dean some satisfaction to see Sam push her.

'Stop it! Please, stop it,' Sam pleaded.

'I'm not doing anything. He's simply dying,' she responded, almost offended. Sarah informed them that she had called the emergency services and they were on their way. Not that CPR would do much good. Not if his heart was shot. Not if Atropos was here.

Shuffling off this mortal coil was taking a lot longer than Dean had thought it would. That was dumb, considering that 'shuffling' wasn't exactly something that sounded fast. Also, Hamlet took his time with practically everything. This drawn out affair wasn't Dean's thing. Kicking the bucket with all your friends and family around you may seem, for lack of a better word, _ideal_, but it wasn't.

Seeing Sam quietly fall apart really wasn't something he wanted to witness. Seeing Amy and Rose try to keep it together wasn't either. Watching Sarah cry and Rory ball his fists in helpless rage and Hannah hug Ben and Castiel looking at him with this goddamn heartbreaking expression on his face: all things Dean could have done without. Luckily, he was starting to feel weaker.

Feeling a little neglected, Atropos coughed discreetly. When they then still proceeded to ignore her, she coughed a little louder.

'Was it worth it, angel? Love?' she asked. Clinically detached again. Gotta admire her. At least she wasn't crumbling like the rest of them. Castiel spoke without taking his eyes off Dean.

'Yes.'

'Really? This? Him?'

Her disbelief sparked the tiniest flash of anger in Dean. His feelings were losing their intensity. Who was she to question their relationship? Who was she to question the awesomeness that was Dean Winchester? Just as annoyed, Castiel turned around.

'Yes,' he snapped. 'You can ask as many times as you like; the answer won't change. It will always be unequivocally yes. Please leave us now.'

'No regrets?' she asked. It better be the last time she opened her mouth, because Dean was this close to getting up and punching her in the face. Well, mentally. Physically, he wasn't going to get up any time soon. Or, you know, ever. The pain was pretty much constant now.

'No regrets. He is worth it,' Castiel said. Dean wanted to say something like, 'hello, dying here,' to get Castiel's attention, but the words wouldn't come out. Can't quip and die at the same time, apparently. All he wanted to do was be comfortable. As if reading his mind, Castiel turned back to him and laid him down onto the wet grass.

The sky was streaked with red. The river murmured in the background. Conversations were starting up again amongst the wedding guests. Rude; Dean thought, but he wasn't mad. He couldn't summon the emotion.

Castiel was holding him, stroking his hair. It would be nauseating, if it hadn't been who they were. This was them. This was love. Dean tried to raise his head and failed.

'Remember... what I said?' he grunted. The thought popped into his mind that it might have been one of those times when Castiel was thinking about sex instead of actually listening. He hoped that it hadn't been, because it was kind of important.

Castiel nodded. His eyes were wet, but he wasn't crying. There was no clutching, no screaming, because Castiel did remember. This was not the end. They would meet again.

'I love you,' Dean whispered, as clearly as he could manage. Castiel choked up, but said it back. The pain was easing. Dean was an expert at dying by now and he knew what that meant. Time was up.


	19. I'm going to go back there someday

Author's note: A little bonus chapter before the epilogue.

**Chapter 19: I'm going to go back there someday**

_Here lies Dean Winchester_

_24-01-1979_

_03-04-2052_

_Whatever our souls are made of_

_His and mine are the same_

'It still seems strange to me that your brother liked literature,' Sarah remarked. 'It's especially difficult to picture him reading Emily Brontë.'

'Well, he didn't come up with that one on his own. Neither did Castiel for that matter,' Sam answered. They both looked at the headstone next to Dean's.

_Here lies Castiel Nicholson_

_18-09-1978_

_30-03-2059_

_If you press me to say why I loved him_

_I can say no more than because he was he and I was I_

'I looked it up. It's from Michel de Montaigne. Obviously, neither of them understood the concept of epitaphs,' Sam joked. Instead, they had chosen to interpret them as love letters from the grave. Sam looked back at his family.

'I think it's cute,' Rory said, patting his father's arm.

'You're such a pussy,' Amy whispered. Rose punched her in the shoulder.

'Bitch,' Amy hissed.

'Jerk,' Rose fired back. Suddenly, Sam had to hold back tears.

'Guys, _please_,' Sarah interjected, indicating their surroundings. Properly chastised, they shut up. Rory was already halfway out the gate and Sarah shepherded Amy and Rose into the parking lot too. She glanced back at Sam, but he nodded at her to go. Hannah hung back. They stared at the headstones. Hannah linked arms with him and squeezed.

'How's it up there? You've been there, right?' she asked.

'Yes,' he admitted. He didn't know how much Castiel had told her, but Hannah was old enough to know that things were rarely as wonderful as they seemed.

'When I was there, it was... not fun. But I'm sure they'll find a way to make it work.'


	20. Meet me by the water

**Epilogue: Meet me by the water**

March the 30th, 2059. Heaven.

After having breakfast with Karen and Bobby, Dean did a few chores. He mowed the lawn, folded some laundry and made the bed. When that was done, he steeled himself.

'Today could be the day,' he mumbled. Nervously, hopefully, he approached the river and waited on the pier. He cracked his knuckles. He kicked stones into the water. It looked like today wasn't the day. Dean sighed. The wooden boards behind him creaked and his heart skipped a beat. He turned.

'What took you so long?'

'It occurred to me that I'd only ever slept with one man, so I had some catching up to do.'

They smiled. It was weird. Neither looked the same as they did the last time they had seen each other. Both were in their prime. Also, Dean had expected more of a running-into-Castiel's-arms-in-slow-motion-while-an-awful-ballad-was-playing scenario.

They studied each other. Bobby had warned him that it would be like that. Karen and he hadn't reconnected immediately either. But Dean hadn't believed him. Because it was Cas.

After an awkward pause, Castiel averted his eyes and took in everything around them.

'It's different,' he commented. Dean nodded.

'Once I got here, I tried to pitch a few of our suggestions to the Powers That Be. They didn't listen. They don't like change. So, Bobby and I got in touch with Ash. We caused some trouble and forced them to listen.'

'You improved it. I knew you would,' Castiel boasted. He sounded proud. Dean smirked.

'And you managed to follow my instructions,' Dean remarked, pretending to be surprised.

'Well, it wasn't that difficult to remember. It was our jogging thing, after all. It really feels like home here.'

The house was an exact replica of their house. The deck chairs were the same. The Impala stood in the garage. Last week, Dean had found a chewed up striped drinking straw in the bushes. Yet, Dean didn't think it was as comfortable and familiar as home was supposed to be. The feeling just hadn't been there. Until now.

'Home is wherever I'm with you, Cas,' he confessed. Dean cringed involuntarily. Annoyed, he added, 'I sound like a Coca Cola commercial.'

'I've missed you,' Castiel said. He took Dean's hand and immediately it all felt a lot less awkward. Dean leaned against Castiel. Damn, he had missed this.

'Ready for one long Sunday afternoon?' he murmured into Castiel's ear, as he pulled Castiel into the water.

'I thought you didn't like those,' Castiel gasped. He wiped the wet hair out of his face. Dean pushed him against one of the wooden poles that were supporting the pier. The water wasn't that deep there; they could both stand. His breath came out in short, sharp bursts as Castiel's hands wandered over his body. After a lot of twisting and cursing, they managed to throw most of their clothes on the bank.

'I do,' Dean said, shivering as he slowly eased into his husband, 'if they last forever.'

(***)

True love stories never have endings - Richard Bach.


End file.
